


one heart is never enough alone

by roommate



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: M/M, Minor Character Death, Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-12
Updated: 2014-11-12
Packaged: 2018-02-25 02:49:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 110,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2605805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roommate/pseuds/roommate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jongin attends university in K-ARTS for two reasons: one, his scholarship; and two, his favorite DJ, $uho. (<b>Warnings:</b> a bit of public sex, mentions of minor character death | Written for noteholding for exorelieffund)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

"It's not the camera, Jongin. It's you."

Jongin shifts in his position and untucks the only portion of his shirt that's stuffed in his jeans. Whoever came up with this kind of fashion for "cool people" is silly, but then he can't be completely correct. $uho wears the same kind of fashion in every video of his, be it a weekly top ten or one of those mid-week music recommendations. He always fashions the same style – a shirt at least three sizes too big for him, faded blue capri shorts, a striped beanie. One side of the shirt tucked in his shorts and the other bunched up loosely so it can hang off the jut of his hips. Chucks, too, because "c00L pE0pLE we4R cHuKZ". At least $uho has grown out of the sticky caps phase; even Jongin, self-declared number one $uho fan, still couldn't help but flinch at the memory of that era.

"Seriously, you should've dropped him as soon as you found out he was using sticky caps," Sehun mumbles. He ducks back into checking the recording they've just done, then grimaces. "Do you want to see your awkward self doing your awkward $uho DJing thing?"

Jongin looks up at Sehun, saying, "It can't be that bad."

Sehun heaves a sigh and turns to Jongin with a solemn smile. It's the one he saves only for certain occasions, specifically those where he knows – and Jongin does, too – that Jongin is as good as hopeless when it comes to pulling off a miracle. Jongin has known Sehun for too long already to know when he uses this to play around with Jongin, to pull at his leg. He's known Sehun for too long already to know when Sehun only aims to make him smile and laugh and cry in consequence soon after because Jongin does that, when he's frustrated and he doesn't know what to do. It's been years since it last happened, though, and Jongin's better at holding back his tears now. He's already graduated from high school; it's only fitting that he be tougher now, stronger, for him to have more control over his tear ducts and over his facial expressions.

"Sorry, bud," Sehun replies after a while. He looks at the footage again, then looks back up at Jongin. "It's just… You really look weird here. Too self-conscious? Just relax, bud. I know you can do it–"

"I know I'm gonna flop! I know I'm gonna–" Jongin takes a deep breath and closes his eyes. "I'm never gonna get into K-ARTS." Jongin crouches, bracing his arms over his head. "And I'm never gonna get this scholarship, and–"

"And you're never gonna meet your Youtube idol with a sloppy fashion sense and questionable sleeping times," Sehun continues. He walks over to where Jongin is, though, and gives his head a pat. "Come on. Stop feeling miserable. You're ten times worse than your $uho-adoring self when you're self-pitying."

"I do _not_ adore him," Jongin grumbles. "He's my life peg."

Sehun snorts. "Do you even know what that means?" A heartbeat, and then more boisterous laughter. "You fap to him?"

Jongin gulps hard, then retorts, "No!"

A half-truth, if Jongin is completely honest with himself. He's never jacked off to any of $uho's videos, at least, or to $uho's voice when he's going through his lengthy narration of the meaning of the lyrics or a brief history on the band. Not even when he's doing a rap and taking a line from each song in the top ten, stringing them together to form cohesive lyrics. That's really cool, though. $uho's confidence when he's on camera, however – that one he definitely might have stroked himself to a few times. Imagined himself at the top of his game, raking money through the Youtube partnership program and making music with SM Entertainment. Being sucked off by a hot guy under the mixing table. Said guy maybe looks a lot like $uho, but Jongin loses the image of $uho in his atrocious clothing – there, he said it – and imagines a cute guy on his knees, stroking his cock, nuzzling it before placing light kisses on the length and taking it in his mouth.

So in essence, $uho is just the jump-off point. $uho isn't $uho without his iconic fashion and Youtube identity. $uho _is_ just an online identity. For all Jongin knows, $uho might not even want to be associated with that name in real life. Heck, for all he knows, $uho might only be a character made by some 3D expert. Now that guy, he'd definitely bow down to and get down on his knees for. Probably blow on the side, but Sehun doesn't have to know that.

"I caught the pause. Teeny tiny moment of hesitation. Hmm." Sehun strokes his chin, nodding thoughtfully. "And then the furrow of your eyebrows, the scrunching of the nose, and then the blush–"

"I am _not_ blushing!" Jongin checks his reflection in the mirror. He's not blushing; he's just half-hard. He can feel the strain in his pants. He has ten more minutes to record, probably, because the image of the 3D animator who'd modeled $uho and rigged the joints to animate him properly– _No._ "Okay. Enough. We're going to record and I'm going to get the scholarship because I will blow them away with my skill in DJing."

Sehun laughs a little. "You _do_ remember that your first track choice is Film and Animation, right?" The shit-eating grin on his lips makes him look ten times uglier than he already it. "So, DJing is connected to that in… what way?"

" _Shut up,_ " Jongin groans. "I can add a shitton of visuals and magic stuff… thinggies with AfterEffects, okay? _Let's just do this,_ Sehun."

Sehun shrugs. "Okay, whatever you say."

The truth is, Jongin could have easily entered a different university and tried for, say, a management course. Or a course in economics and political science, even. Graduating at the top of your class doesn't give you a free pass to any university your heart so desires – that's Sooneung results at work. It _does_ sort of make the application process easier, though. Jongin has always had great grades, save for Science where Sehun excels over him. And maybe English, but in his defense his spelling is shitty only sometimes. He hadn't accomplished the composition part of Sooneung with nearly perfect marks for nothing, after all.

But he wants to do something he's passionate about in university. He wants to make all those cool effects he sees in movies, or maybe even create a game. He wants to share his love for music to the rest of the world not only through a Facebook page where he can post his song recommendations but through a show of his own, or a Youtube channel where people can actually see his face and get the impression that he really _is_ into this shit. Some of the people in Youtube who say they love cooking and stuff? Those are flukes. You'll know once you see a strategically placed can of Del Monte in the background. And the long line of spiels at the end. _Thank you to my sponsors,_ et cetera et cetera.

"Rolling," Sehun calls out from behind the camera, because he likes to pretend he's a great director. He's not even planning to major in it.

"Okay." Jongin claps his hands, cracks his knuckles. He cracks his neck, too, and smiles a little when he feels the knot of tension in his shoulders come off, easing as he sees the bright red light of the camera blinking at him. He takes a deep breath, then, pulling his shoulders back in a way that he knows makes him look more impressive. He does that when he's made to go on stage to give a speech on the weirdest topics ever, and he emerges victorious every single time, makes some of the faculty tear up, even.

"Let's do this," he mutters under his breath. Sehun nods at him flashes two thumbs up.

♬ ♬ ♬

In this dream, he's probably having multiple orgasms already. He isn't supposed to be carefully cutting off one edge of an envelope and slowly pulling out a letter or two. He isn't supposed to be unfolding the papers, either, perusing through them as he thumbs through the edges. Three papers, all containing different things – one with a happy salutation that says, _Greetings, Kim Jongin-ssi! We are glad to let you know that you have been accepted into the Film and Animation program of Korea National University of the Arts!_ Another that details all the subjects he can take up during his freshman year and a note at the end that requires him to 1) be a member of a school organization because apparently top students have to be able to balance both academics and club activities; and 2) follow the flowchart if he wants a stress-free pre-enlistment period on his next semester.

And finally, the last piece of paper, a letter from the office of student grants saying that the panel is thrilled to let him know that he passed the assessment for the scholarship grant, that he's exhibited exceptional video editing and special effects rendering capabilities that they're _positive that you will make a great contribution to the K-ARTS community._

He goes through that line one more time, and then another, and another, then pinches himself. "I've got to be dreaming."

Sehun snatches the piece of paper from him, but with finesse. He doesn't even know how that's possible. All he knows is that Sehun is now wide-eyed and he's grinning ear to ear and that's not his _you're not fucking around with me_ grin. "You have _got_ to be dreaming."

"Pinch me."

Sehun gives his cheek a light punch.

"I said _pinch_ , not punch!" Jongin groans.

"Same banana," Sehun replies. "But shit, man, you– You're going to K-ARTS. With a scholarship. _You're going to K-ARTS–_ "

It's one of those very few times that he's glad to have Sehun as a friend. If there's anyone who knows him better than himself, it's Sehun. Sehun has seen him graduate from diapers to real undies (provided that he actually has a recollection of that; Jongin hopes Sehun doesn't). Sehun has seen him bawl over his first 7/10 mark in Math. Sehun was there when he got his first medal for composition writing, and they stood beside each other as Sehun was given the Best in Spelling medal. They've been through every tough academic period together, have expressed the same brand of distaste for Biology but aced the exams, nonetheless. Sehun was there to watch the first ever video that Jongin created with Windows MovieMaker, and then the one in Vegas, until Jongin finally got a hang of Premiere and AfterEffects.

Sehun was the one who told him, "Hey bro, why don't you try getting a scholarship in K-ARTS? You have good grades, just slightly better than mine." A nudge of the elbow, then, "C'mon, give it a shot. There's no harm in trying, right?"

"I'm going to K-ARTS," Jongin whispers. He buries his face in the crook of Sehun's neck because he is _definitely not crying;_ he's just emoting through his eyes. Those are two different things. "I'm going to make awesome videos and be a director and be the change I want to be in lousy Youtube videos–"

Sehun chuckles, scoffs-snorts-laughs or whatever that sound is supposed to be, and he hiccups for a moment until Jongin feels something wet on his scalp, at the back of his head. "You are," Sehun says, voice so soft he could be whispering, and he threads his fingers through Jongin's hair, the stroke of his thumb on the giving flesh of Jongin's scalp soft, gentle. "I'm so proud of you."

Sehun sounds like his mom, but he'll save that comment for later. For now, he relishes the moment and takes a deep breath, taking in the mixed scent of fabric conditioner and Sehun's strawberry lotion and Sehun's sweet voice.

"I know," Jongin whispers. Sehun sobs a little. "I know."

♬ ♬ ♬

Jongin loads $uho's new recommendation for the week and wiggles in his chair, then shifts so that he's sitting on his feet. $uho is wearing a black shirt underneath the basketball jersey and his hair's gelled up, bangs pulled back in a style that removes the shadows that usually make his features look sharper, darker. He looks like an ordinary college dude today who's part of a hiphop group, but Jongin doesn't really care. He's here for the music, anyway, as always. When he's feeling stuck and he needs some new tunes to get his cogwheels turning, all the has to do is hop to $uho's channel and hope that there's a new video that he can watch.

$uho delivers his usual spiel for the introduction, then delves right into the recommendation for the day. It's a new track from Walk the Moon. Jongin loves that band – it got him through forty-eight straight hours of laboring over stats and calculus practice tests just so he can be assured of a near-perfect score come the actual exam. "Okay, this better be good," he mumbles, then shifts in his seat again. He drums his fingers on his desk, and his pinky gets caught on a sharp piece of paper – an envelope.

He looks at the comment section of the video, then, and sees that no one has left a comment yet. Normal, because Jongin's usually the first to leave a note on the recommendation or even the timely upload because _wow rly needed this $uho tnx, swore i was goin 2 drop dead while studying calc kekeke_.

He taps the keys of his keyboard lightly, then, and types up a quick message – _hey $uho i got into k-arts!! tnx for being an inspo, u r such an icon and i love ur song choices n it seems d panel liked em enough 2 let me in too haha (btw luv Walk the Moon <3)_

_He doesn't need to know that you fap to his song recos,_ he hears a voice in his mind say. It sounds a lot like Sehun's. He deletes it, retypes with proper capitalization this time because Jesus, a K-ARTS scholar shouldn't be using shortcuts when typing with a real, physical QWERTY keyboard. Maybe he should even get a new Youtube account, change his username from _drealkimkai2007_ to _kim.jongin_. He snatches a sticky note from his pad nearby and scribbles a note on that. He'll do that later. He can send the 'thank you' message once that's done.

Or maybe he can just thank $uho in person. $uho studies in K-ARTS, anyway; he'd mentioned that in one of his videos where he talked about the broadcasting club hosting this mini radio week where they played music for the entire college of art theory to help the art dorks study better. Jongin gets an idea, then, scribbles _apply 4 membership @ d broadcasting club ng check requirements in websyt_ on another sticky note, scores through that a few times and rewrites the message again, spelling out each and every word. He tacks it to the calendar beside his laptop and smiles to himself. He's never felt more responsible.

Except he doesn't get to create a new account, GMail or Youtube, and neither does he get to check the requirements for membership in the website. So come first day of class in K-ARTS, he writes _drealkimkai2007@yahoo.com_ under the email address column beside his name. He hands the paper to the girl behind him with a smile.

"Nice email," she says, cackling.

"Nice…" Jongin looks around and spots a pen on the girl's desk with a doraemon pencil top. "Pen cap. Thing. Whatever. Doraemon, over there." Jongin gestures with his lips. "Would've been better if it was Mojacko."

The girl snickers. "You like Mojacko?"

Jongin waits for the girl's laughter to die down a little. It pays to be in an honors class sometimes. You're sort of assured that people won't laugh at you silly for your quirks. The girl's wicked grin softens at the corners, and then her eyes dance with a twinkle that Jongin can't seem to place. It's nice, _cute_ , and really, he likes Doraemon. It's just that he likes Mojacko more.

So he admits, after clearing his throat. "Yeah. I think he's cool."

"Cute," the girl says. "Jung Soojung. Nice to meet you… real 'Kim Kai'," she continues, using air quotes for his name.

"It's Kim Jongin," Jongin mutters. He looks back in front at the same time that the professor looks around the room, smiling at the class. Then the professor returns to facing the board, snatching a whiteboard marker from his back pocket. "I just thought Kai was a cool name back in high school."

"If it makes you feel better, _Jongin–_ Soojung drawls his name, the last bit of sound coming off her tongue like a thick syrup. "I used to use Krystal before, back in high school. Because, uh." She looks away, then whispers, _look in front. The professor's watching._ "Because 'moon crystal power'."

Jongin laughs but quickly swallows the sound, then risks a quick glance over his shoulder. "Sailormoon?"

Soojung pokes his shoulders and whispers, "Focus on what he's saying."

First class of the first semester means they won't delve right into the actual lesson yet, though. The professor, Lee Jinki, is a history major who eventually went into advertising, then transferred to the production side of the business. He opened his own production house soon after, then started doing commercials for big brands like P&G and Mondelez. And now he's working on the third installment of his 'The Chicken and the Egg' series that turns out to be a parody on the politics in colleges and universities.

"So I'm telling you, what we're trying to achieve here isn't mastery of the craft. Well, that's just a component of it," Jinki says. "But what's important is the substance of the films you'll be creating in the future. Or the music videos! You're making a girl group show a lot of skin, but what for? You're making a boy band do hip thrusts as the camera pans across the room, right in front of these newly-legal boys. _What gives?_ When you choose a means by which you'd want to communicate your message, you have to choose your medium carefully. And here in our history of film class, we'll look at how all these great scriptwriters, how these movie directors were able to effectively relay a message without having to resort to really racy execution and tasteless use of porn."

Jongin leans back a little and whispers, "I like Sailormoon. It talks about friendship and shows that even losers can make a difference in this world."

Soojung laughs a little. "It also means that losers have to _focus on what the professor is saying_ so that they'll be able to transform into sailor scouts when they need to save the day already."

"Fine, fine," Jongin mumbles. He sits up straight, then succumbs to the urge to lean forward and prop his chin on his hands.

Jinki doesn't let them introduce themselves until thirty minutes before the class ends, though, and poses a question – "What do you see yourself doing with a camera in your hands ten years from now?" He starts with the people at the back. There's Taemin who wanted to major in dance, initially, but found himself falling in love with traditional filmmaking when he first held a camera in his hands. And then there's Zitao, a student who'd recently transferred from China, saying that he sees himself bridging the gaps between different cultures and races through his film. "Ah, world peace," Jinki even comments. Jongin only bites the inside of his cheek to keep himself from laughing.

Soojung talks about wanting to do more story-based music videos for Korean artists, then, and mentions that her ultimate goal is to create a documentary on the life of her grandparents. Jinki cocks an eyebrow at that, but the smile on his lips hasn't waned yet. Soon, he's grinning, baring his teeth, and Jongin can't help but marvel at Soojung's determination to immortalize the achievements of her grandparents in a feature film. What's that compared to Jongin's silly dream of creating the next best Harry Potter hit or an entirely new genre of film called horror-suspense-romance with zombies?

"And you?" Jinki turns to him, a smile on his lips. "Kim Jongin, is that right?"

Jongin nods. "Yes, sonsaengnim. I… I used to go by Kim Kai online. Tried to upload a few game review videos but I got lazy afterwards. _Busy._ " He clears his throat. "And then I encountered this really weird DJ on Youtube and he… You know the contrast between his style and the type of songs he recommends to people? I find it really… strange. But amazing. It's like he's saying, 'hey, I don't have to wear a suit and tie to enjoy bossa' or' I don't have to be this stiff corporate kind of guy to enjoy a little RnB every now and then'. I… want to do that, too, other than to create films that will leave a mark in the next generation. Something that will inspire them to study harder."

Bullshit, a voice in Jongin's mind says. If anything, he might just encourage them to get deeper into the gameplay of Pokemon to create kick-ass teams for online battling.

"I want to be this… this person so well-versed in different kinds of music that when people suddenly get this urge to look for new music to listen to, they'll think, 'ah, maybe I can consult Kim Kai. He'll be able to help!' Because music has helped me get through some weird phases of my life. I mean some trying times." Calculus, statistics, biology. "Tough times." 

Jinki nods, slow and deliberate, then looks up at him. "But why film? Why not broadcasting?"

Jongin shrugs, then musters the best smile he can summon to his lips. _Because $uho does Youtube videos so I can shoot two birds with one stone by taking up film?_ he wants to say, but that isn't exactly the best answer. So instead, he answers, "My love for music and cool special effects culminates in film, sonsaengnim. And... I'm passionate about this?" He takes a deep breath, remembering all those nights he'd dedicated to dissecting every element of MovieMaker. Those were the days. After a while, e continues, "And this isn't he most convincing answer, probably, but… why not?"

Jinki furrows his eyebrows for a moment, but the tight corners of his lips ease into a smile after a while. "Sounds familiar," Jinki whispers, but he's speaking so softly that he could've said something else. Jongin isn't so accustomed to picking apart other people's voices, not yet. Music, maybe, but not _voices_ in particular. He'll still need practice in that department. So he strains his hearing, keeps listening to Jinki, and only hiccups when Jinki moves closer to ruffle his hair.

"I'll keep an eye on you, kid," Jinki says, then gives Jongin's hair a few quick pats.

_And I'll try my best to not lose your interest,_ Jongin says in his mind. _I'll try my very best._

♬ ♬ ♬

It turns out that Soojung is supposed to be a second year already, but she had to stop halfway through the semester last year. "I had this really nasty back injury that time. So they had to operate on me, replace my bones with bars, et cetera et cetera." Soojung waves her hand about, making a flourish as if she isn't talking about breaking her back and _undergoing surgery._ She'll get along with Sehun pretty well. "All is good now, though, but I'm in the college of broadcasting. I'm planning to go into sports annotating someday. My… parents wanted me to be an athlete."

"Oh," Jongin whispers, nodding in thought. He looks to his side, then at the exit ahead of them. That's the passageway from the Film building to the Broadcasting building. And that's where he should be headed, as well, if he wants to check the requirements for the broadcasting club. "Are you– Can't you try to play again? I mean, I don't know the sport but if you're really passionate about it–"

"Tennis," Soojung replies. She locks her arms behind her back and stretches, the braided pigtails of her hair falling off her shoulders. "I can't even if I wanted to. Too much strain on the back. So I'lm going for the next best thing." She claps her hands together and smiles, but it doesn't quite reach her eyes. "Sports broadcasting! I'm sure I'll do a great job. I was born with tennis–"

"Molded by it, nurtured by it–" Jongin takes a deep breath, remembering that scene from Batman. He feels a heavy pressure in his side, then, and turns to his side to catch Soojung elbowing him. " _What?_ "

"Did you hear yourself? You just… went from your normal giggly voice to this really deep tone and–" She blinks up at him, and the corners of her mouth tug up into a smile, bold and bright, teeth-baring. "You… What if you went into voice acting?"

"Me? Voice acting?" Like the ones he hears in those Japanese 'BL dramas' where two guys fuck and he's left wondering if the voice actors actually fuck each other in the recording booth? _Shit, Jongin, don't do that. Don't taint the sanctity of the booth,_ he tells himself. "I dunno. I'm not that flexible."

"Training, Jongin. There's always the opportunity to learn how it's done." She cocks both eyebrows at him. "I'm sure the broadcasting club can help. They hold voice acting workshops from time to time. Wasn't able to stay long enough to know if they actually held those, but yeah." She grins. "I'm sure the guys there will be able to help you out."

Jongin narrows his eyes at her. "Sounds ominous."

"Sounds good," Soojung answers. "You'd know, mister 'passionate about music and sounds'. I'm sure you'll have fun with it. Just give it a shot."

If history were anything to go by, the few times that Jongin _did_ go with something he has very little knowledge about had been nothing but great. He won second place in that expository paragraph writing contest back in fifth grade, then won gold in the spelling bee in his first year of middle school. He'd also won a few more awards in those times when he'd suddenly be pulled out of class, expecting him to be able to catch up on lessons, anyway, because he's one of the district's top students. And then the most recent – he got a scholarship in K-ARTS after Sehun somehow convinced (brainwashed) him to apply for one. So maybe, just maybe, this isn't such a bad idea. Or it could be, but there's always the opportunity to turn it into something good.

"If it turns out to be a bad idea–"

"I'll buy you ice cream," Soojung answers. She clamps her hands on Jongin's shoulders, then pushes him forward, closer to the passageway from the Film building to the Broadcasting. "Okay, we're going to the club room!"

The pressure of Soojung's hands on his shoulders relieves the tension in his muscles just a little. it's strange, _weird_ – it feels a lot like Sehun's touch, warm and soothing, even at the most inopportune of times. If he were the slightest bit interested in girls then his heart would skip a beat, but he relishes this feeling, nonetheless, the wave of relief that washes over him as Soojung guides him up the stairs, down the corridor, then to the narrow alley to the club room, touch unwavering.

The broadcasting club room isn't like anything he'd imagined. No huge sound booths, no headphones of varying sizes and brands. No carpets for better acoustics. There _are_ two shelves near the entrance, though, both filled with books on sound and music – its history, the technicalities of sound design, and even _the parts of a waveform._ Jongin blinks several times at that and decides to take a step back and pull away even before he can ask Soojung the importance of knowing the parts of a sound wave. Still, he struggles with keeping mum and biting the inside of his cheeks, blurting out, "This is it?"

"Pretty disappointing, yeah?" Soojung says. She chuckles. She raises her hand, then, pointing at the different areas of the club room. "This one's where the council usually convenes to make important decisions. This one here, the big area at the middle, that's where most meetings are held. That's where we brainstorm, as well, for the projects of the club." She takes a few steps forward and points at a few more things – the small area for eating cocktail style, and then a couch near the lone desk at the far edge of the room, opposite the door. She says people call that 'the lounge'.

"Now here, inside, this is where the magic happens," she continues. She cocks her head in the direction of another door, narrower that the standard ones in the school. Jongin feels like his claustrophobia's attacking him again, eating him from the inside then out. It's makes him shiver. "I've only been inside thrice, all during broadcasting week. We were plugged to the entire school's PA system. It was like manning a real radio program."

Jongin takes a deep breath and inches closer to the door, inspecting it from head to toe. It's made of dark wood. It makes sense that they use wood as a sound absorber in a room for the broadcasting club, but– "You're part of the broadcasting club? I mean, you _were_ part of it?"

"Before I stopped for the surgery, yeah. I was part of the second broadcasting week here in K-ARTS," Soojung replies. She wraps her fingers around the knob, then gives it a slick twist. "We can take a quick peek. Just don't eat inside."

Jongin holds both arms up and empties out his pocket. "Just my gum. Here. Inside my mouth." He chews noisily. "I won't tack this to any surface inside, I promise."

Soojung rolls her eyes. "Very well, then." She twists the door knob all the way and pushes the door open, holding it for Jongin. "After you."

It's a narrow passageway behind the door, and then a glimmer of light a few feet away from the entrance. It isn't really dark – the lighting's just dim, warm yellow lights casting him a sick glow. There aren't any writings on the walls, no inscriptions whatsoever, but there is a 'no eating' sign at the end of the passageway. Another door – Jongin takes the liberty to open this one and swings it forward, revealing a well-lit room inside.

He takes a deep breath at the sight and holds it there, at the center of his chest, the thumping against his ribcage growing louder with each passing second. There's a sound booth in front of him, a huge equalizer on one side of the long table and a mixer on the other side. There's a computer on this side of the room, too, with a screen big enough to display long sound waves produced from recordings. There are a few microphones here and there, all in tiny glass cases, and then a dry box at the corner with three little cameras. Probably for the behind-the scenes footages, or for when they do one of those live 'boras' like the ones he sees online for Kiss the Radio and Starry Night Radio.

And at the other side of the room, beyond the glass, lies the real thing – the condenser microphone with a pop filter for recordings, and then another condenser that can be pulled down for broadcasts. The closed laptops on the desk on the other side are labelled _FOR SOUND BOOTH USE ONLY._

"Wow," is the only thing Jongin says. He looks around him again, then, at the tiny knobs of the equalizer, then laughs a little. "Just… _wow._ "

He misses the other mics at a corner of the booth on the other side. He doesn't miss the light chuckle over his shoulder, though, and Soojung's small sound of surprise. "Like what you're seeing?" says the unfamiliar voice– _No,_ this one is… strangely familiar. Definitely not Soojung's, but he's heard this somewhere before. Probably a bit rougher than the raw tone he's hearing right now, but the tone is so distinct. He knows this voice well enough that he can see the image of an outfit clearly in his mind – baggy capri shorts, faded as hell. One side of his baggy shirt tucked and the other pooled at the jut of his hip. And really bad-looking bling of a dollar sign around his neck.

_Except he doesn't sound as rough or anything but holy shit–_ He turns around to look over his shoulder and blurts it out loud, choking a bit. " _Holy shit–_ "

"Oppa, you scared the sh–" The man cocks his eyebrows at Soojung, and Soojung bites her lower lip before continuing, "sharks out of me. Oppa, the thought's been conceived in my mind already. What's the point in not saying the word?"

"You're in my club room, little girl. My club, my rules," said 'oppa' replies. He ruffles Soojung's hair, then, and Soojung narrows her eyes at him but lets him pat the tuft of hair, anyway. "You brought a friend with you, I see."

"Ah yeah, he accidentally did some voice acting earlier. I think he's a natural." She looks over her shoulder, pausing for a while, then turns back to the other guy. "You should hear him, oppa. Raw talent but I think, with a bit of polishing, he'll be great."

The not-stranger hums, the corners of his lips tugging up on reflex. _God,_ Jongin think, even that curl of the lip looks so familiar it almost makes him want to throw up. "Jung Soojung, impressed by someone? You must be good…" He chuckles, then, and covers his mouth with his hand. "I'm sorry, I didn't get your name. You are?"

"Kim Jongin," Jongin replies. _Owner of the top spot in the comments to all of your videos? The guy with the godawful username?_ "It's a pleasure to meet you, um–" He scratches at this jeans, seething when a nail catches on the material and gets stuck for a moment. "I'm sorry, it's just that– I know he studies here in K-ARTS but I don't know his course but yeah he studies here and he's in the broadcasting club and–"

_Get your act together, Jongin! This isn't how the class valedictorian is supposed to address–_ The smile on the guy's lips tugs up even more and reveals pearly white teeth. _–your idol, your life peg, the man you look up to but whose fashion sense you still condone–_

"Are you $uho?" he finally asks, breathless as he ends. The man's eyes widen and he leans back _just a little_. Jongin waits for… something, a sign that he hasn't made the person in front of him feel affronted, if ever said something bad or detrimental about $uho. He would _never;_ he'd talk shit about Sehun's plans of dyeing his hair all the colors of the rainbow but never talk shit about $uho. The silence is thick, almost deafening, and it's broken only by the man's light laughter, the lilt of his voice and the way he almost chokes when he reaches a high note in his fit of amusement. His eyes turn into half-moon crescents and his cheeks burn a light shade of red and _no way in hell is this $uho, no swag at all,_ but at the same time Jongin _can_ imagine $uho's alter ego being exactly like this. His real identity, rather, since $uho is just a persona – $uho said it, himself.

Soojung snorts. The guy hasn't stopped laughing yet, but he doesn't have beads of tears at the corners of his eyes anymore. "Well, it was bound to come out, anyway. It's not as if–" The man laughs again, shaking his head time. If Jongin didn't find enough self-restraint to grab $uho-looking person by the shoulders, the guy would probably be so dizzy right now with all the violent shaking. "You know, that just started as a project–"

"–in your broadcasting class," Jongin says, nodding.

The man cocks an eyebrow at him. "And then my roommate, Chanyeol, thought it would be great to dress me up in his baggy clothes." The man takes a deep breath, shakes his head, laughs again. "Kim Joonmyun. Broadcasting club president in the morning, Youtube sensation in the evening. Pleasure to meet you," he says, extending his hand in Jongin's direction. "I only use the name $uho online. Don't let anyone else hear you saying that."

"Oh," Jongin whispers. He stares at Joonmyun's outstretched hand for a while, then gives it a few quick shakes. He imagines the horrible snake rings $uho wears in his videos. Joonmyun's hands are free of those, thank God. " _Oh._ Yes, I promise. And hi, I'm your biggest fan."

Joonmyun doesn't seem to be accustomed to hearing things like those because the next thing Jongin knows, Joonmyun's cheeks are a bright shade of red. Soojung's laughing beside him, and it only takes a stern look from Joonmyun to make Soojung stop. "He gets that a lot, but never with his videos. Most people think he's silly for trying to be some hiphop dude when he can hardly rap in real life," Soojung narrates. "I mean, just look at him – does he look like he can rap without at least twelve hours straight of practice? He isn't even sold on the idea of loosening his tie in school." Joonmyun gives her _that look_ again and this time Soojung only rolls her eyes. "Who even wears long-sleeved polos and dress pants in school even if he doesn't have a presentation?"

_I almost did,_ Jongin says, remembering the outfits he'd prepared the night before for his first day in school. It made sense, though – he wanted to impress professors and come off as a serious student who went to school with a mission to learn everything, right? In the end, he went with a blue checkered polo and light-colored denim jeans. Then he slung his old school bag over his shoulder. He'd kept the sleeves of his polo unfolded for a hint of 'professionalism'.

"Formal attire isn't so bad," he says in defense. "Makes you look snappier. Smarter."

"Oh well. It _is_ still cold. I guess it's pretty timely, as well," Soojung says. She tugs at the cuffs of Joonmyun's sleeves and Joonmyun tries to make her let go by waving his arms about, but to no avail – Soojung's grip on him is too tight. "Oppa, you're not going to a business meeting."

"I _came_ from a business meeting," Joonmyun mutters. He looks up again to meet Jongin in the eye, saying, "I wasn't supposed to come here, but–"

_But you knew I was coming! Sensed it, because of the uploader-commenter connection!_ No, Jongin, that's just stupid. "Because you love the club so much, it pains you to not drop by the club room, at the very least, since you're in the vicinity?"

Joonmyun furrows his eyebrows a little, then nods. "Exactly that." He lays a palm flat on Soojung's hand, then says, "I'll be off in a while, anyway. I have consultation in an hour. Need to do some reading in the library."

"You can read here?" Jongin blurts out. He gulps hard, then grabs Soojung by the wrist. "We can get lost. I mean we can leave since Soojung just… showed me around and it's not as if I intend to ask you questions about your life or anything because–" He bites the inside of his cheek and repeats in his mind, again and again, _stop making a fool of yourself, Jongin._ "Because we have to study, too." He checks his schedule tacked on the other side of his clear folder, and Joonmyun chuckle as Jongin scores along the edge of the paper with his nail. "I have to be in my 'Introduction to Sound' class in thirty minutes, after all."

Joonmyun cocks an eyebrow and a corner of his mouth tugs up even more. "You're a broadcasting major? Or... are you a film major?"

Jongin nods, just a few light bobs of the head. "Yes," he says when he finds his voice again. "Yes to being a film major, I mean. I… want to make a really great movie someday. Lots of special effects and lessons to be learned."

"Sounds familiar," Joonmyun hums. He cranes his neck, looking out into the narrow corridor, then turns back to Jongin. "You can study here. If you have any questions on the subject, you can ask me. I was supposed to go into film before shifting to–"

"Broadcasting," Jongin whispers. Joonmyun's eyes shoot up, meeting Jongin's own, and Jongin feels his insides turn. It's a good lurch, not the crippling type that makes you go weak in the knees in the worst possible manner. "Are you sure, Kim Joonmyun-ssi?"

"Just hyung is fine," Joonmyun says. He tilts his head in the direction of the door. "Come on. No time to waste. Best to prepare for class so that you can answer whatever questions the professor wants to chuck at you."

_But it's the first day of class. Nobody throws a pop quiz on the first day,_ Jongin wants to say, but words escape him, rushing to the very back of his throat and only letting garbled noises slip from his lips. He follows Joonmyun, then, into the corridor and out into the main club area. Joonmyun motions for Jongin to follow him to where the couch is and pats the space beside him, and it only takes a cock of an eyebrow and the head from Joonmyun for him to agree to gloss through the readings that they've been given before the semester started. Joonmyun gives him a refresher on the basics of sound, how it's produced, the organs involved, and the differences between its usage in broadcasting and in media. It's feels like being quizzed because Joonmyun keeps humming at the end of each section they breeze through, and Jongin's hardly the worst student with godawful concentration, but it's hard to focus with your idol just a few centimeters away, his pinky touching the jutted bone of your wrist, all of his attention on you.

It's hard to focus and even more difficult to attempt to impress, and Jongin tries not to wince whenever he catches the weird lilt in his own voice or the choked noises at the back of his throat. Joonmyun only chuckles in response, bobbing his head to the rhythm of Jongin's easy speech as he explains what he knows about sound and what he doesn't, and what he'd want to learn during the sound studio practice, if they'll ever be given the opportunity to go behind the booth this semester.

"What if you get the chance to get behind the booth, though? Record a few things just for fun?" Joonmyun asks.

"Just for fun?" Jongin chuckles. "I dunno, hyung. I don't think anyone should taint the sanctity of the booth just for the sake of fun."

"Really now? Interesting," Joonmyun says, then hums as he nods. He says nothing more even when Jongin looks at him, eyes searching for an answer to a question he doesn't even know. Joonmyun doesn't say a thing until Jongin excuses himself for his classes and seeks Soojung's help to get back to his side of the campus because _I trust my feet to take me there but I don't trust my senses._ "Think about it!" Joonmyun calls out after Jongin, and Jongin only flashes two thumbs up at him and waves at him in reply.

When Soojung closes the door behind them, Jongin leans back against it and buries his face in his hands.

"Oh my God," he whispers, voice muffled by the press of his mouth to his skin. "I just befriended $uho."

♬ ♬ ♬

The bell gives off a shrill ring and Jongin sinks in his seat, throwing his head back a little. He'd gone to his Semiotics class right after his Introduction to Sound class and really, who makes these schedules? Semiotics isn't a subject meant to be taken during siesta period or in the afternoon leading to the sunset. At one point, you'll just find yourself staring at the window and asking, is this really the sun setting or is this my vision of the setting sun? School fucks up with your brain sometimes; in Jongin's case, it fucks up with his brain and the rest of his body every single day.

 _If you have any questions on the subject, you can ask me,_ comes Joonmyun's voice in his head. He giggles but quickly clasps his hand over his mouth. If he wants to be a student taken seriously by professors and fellow students, alike, then he can't be caught giggling in a classroom that is slowly being vacated by classmates. He fixes his things, then, slips the handout that was given to them earlier between the sheets of his notebook and places it inside his file case. He can worry about the file case bulging later. Right now, he has to address his growling stomach.

The trip to the cafeteria isn't the toughest path. He doesn't get lost, for one, thanks to the easy-to-read signs from the classroom to the cafeteria, and he pays close attention to his surroundings this time, too. When Soojung dragged him to the Broadcasting building earlier, half of his mind was still stuck in his History of Film class and figuring out the proper answer to Jinki's question, "Why film?" He's got to have a better reason than wanting to have a Youtube channel of his own and to do a DJing program of his own online, just like $uho. It's not as if his professor knows who $uho is; and on the off-chance that Jinki does know $uho, Jongin wouldn't really be so open to discussing the many reasons why $uho is the best thing since sliced bread.

He cranes his necks as he checks each dish, then orders ramyun, a generous serving of kimchi, and an equally big serving of mulmandu. He takes a deep breath, inhaling the sweet scent of his ramyun as the bowl is set on his tray, then takes a few bills from his wallet to pay for his meal. This is better than the trash he'd been eating all those weeks when his life was 99% studying for Sooneung and 1% taking either a piss or a dump.

"I was convinced you wanted to eat a light dinner until–" A soft chuckle, then some humming. "Until you asked for another order of mulmandu."

Jongin's eyes shoot up at the sound of the voice, and some of the hot steam from his ramyun slips between the thin space between his glasses and his eyes. He winces at the prickling sensation, but he has enough sense to step to his side before turning to check the source of the voice. It takes a while for his vision to refocus, but there's no mistaking that gentle smile and the cock of the eyebrow. He's spent years memorizing that face, albeit rougher, more… _gangsta._

"Hyung," he says in acknowledgement. He takes a few more steps to his side, making way for Joonmyun to get to the counter to pay for his own meal. "You have night classes?"

"No, not at all. I just thought I'd grab some food before retreating to the club room." He cracks his neck, tilting his head to the left, then the right, and smiles when the lady at the cashier hands him his change. "Are you with anyone?"

"I'm alone. Haven't made much friends yet." More like, _I was too engrossed in the lecture because while Semiotics is a complete mindfuck, it's fun._ He's pretty sure he's one of the few people who emerged from that class unscathed. On the outside, at least. It's only the first day, though; Jongin can't be too sure. He can't let his guard down just yet. "You?"

"Same. Except my friends have night classes. They won't take the same slots as mine because I always take the morning ones." Joonmyun chuckles. He starts walking to one of the tables now, and Jongin picks up his own tray, trying his best to match. "Do you want to join me for dinner?"

_Do you always speak so formally?_ Jongin wants to ask. Instead, he nods and follows Joonmyun to his seat.

Joonmyun isn't exactly quiet company during the meal. He fills silences with humming when he isn't chewing, and bobbing his head to some unknown music when he feels like it. It almost feels like Jongin _forced_ his existence onto Joonmyun, forced Joonmyun to invite him to join him for dinner, but that's not the case. Or at least Jongin would like to think that it isn't the case because Joonmyun very well had the option of not making his existence behind Jongin in the line known.

_He just wants to eat in peace,_ Jongin tells himself. _Stop staring at him like you're expecting him to burst into song or give you a work-in-progress of his weekly top ten._

Joonmyun breaks the silence with light laughter that gains cadence after a while. "I'm sorry. I'm just not used to knowing people who… actually listen to $uho's stuff. I mean–" _Stuff. Joonmyun said 'stuff'._ Jongin's not sure if he likes it when Joonmyun isn't using formal language. It makes him sound so… unsure of himself. "How did you even come across those videos? The bit of info you dropped back there in the club room – that's from videos back in… 2010? 2011? Youtube's partnership program hadn't taken effect yet that time." Joonmyun chuckles. He seems to like doing that just to ease the tension of having to listen to white noise all the time. "How?"

"I was video hopping," Jongin confesses, doesn't say, _I was hopping from one girl on girl tongue action video to another, and the one I was watching had Mousse T's 'Horny' as the background music. That you featured on your video that time._ "Looking for new songs to jam to and stuff. And then your Mousse T 'Great Finds for Great Weekends' video popped up on the suggested videos panel and– Yeah."

Joonmyun nods, slow and deliberate, like he still can't believe that he's sitting opposite someone who has followed his Youtube career since Youtube was born. Or a year after Youtube was born, whatever. "Mousse T. Interesting," Joonmyun comments. "So you saw the Justin Bieber recommendations?"

Jongin almost snorts while sipping his soup. "I judged you at first, hyung, I really did."

" _At first._ That means you were convinced that they were good after a while?"

"Only 'Somebody to Love'," Jongin answers. "And only because you gave the listeners a link to a better cover. The Boyce Avenue one, I think? That was an interesting rendition."

The hard edges of Joonmyun's smile soften into light little upward curls. Jongin feels his insides turn a little, then do cartwheels when Joonmyun parts his lips, revealing white teeth. "Not the biggest fan of J. B. but that was a good track. Really hard to not get into that song."

"Or admit it, even." Jongin takes a piece of mulmandu and seethes when the heat from the small opening pricks his gums. "I have a friend who loves his music, though. He loved that feature of yours, by the way. Couldn't convert him to being your fan, though."

Joonmyun blinks at him a few times, tilting his head just a little, and laughs. He covers his mouth with his hand quickly, though, and soon the sweet laughter dissolves into thin air as Joonmyun gulps down hard. _Great, Jongin. Way to make your idol feel awkward about the entire situation,_ he tells himself. Bangs his head against an imaginary wall or thunks his face in hot ramyun. The former is a better option; he paid for the noodles, after all.

"Maybe it's just not his thing?" Joonmyun says after a while. He pokes at his kimbap, then, and Jongin thinks, _well, he probably can't stick to his too formal self forever. That's tiring._ "I'm glad he liked the feature, though. Maybe I should–" He takes a sip of his water and licks his lips. "Maybe I should do that again."

"Maybe you shouldn't. His music's been taking a steady decline lately." Shame, Justin Bieber had a promising future, if you could look past the screechy voice. Whoops. "The new bands you're featuring are really great, though, hyung. Walk the Moon? Wouldn't have discovered them if it wasn't for your show."

Joonmyun chuckles. "'Shut Up and Dance' is a cute dance song. You should listen to their first full-length album. It's really great. Nice songs to drive along the highway to." Joonmyun takes a piece of kimbap and pops it in his mouth, then adds some kimchi to the mix. Right. Definitely losing the prim and proper mask now. Joonmyun looks up at him, then, and fixes him with a gaze. "Do you drive? Listen to the radio there or something?"

Jongin shakes his head, still in the middle of eating another piece of mulmandu. "Not really…? I've never had the chance to take lessons…"

"Ah. Well, you're young," Joonmyun replies. His voice drops down so low, barely above a whisper, but Jongin still manages to catch it.

He waits for a follow-up, an explanation behind the question, but Joonmyun says nothing. Instead, he turns his gaze back to his kimbap and the messy lump of kimchi on his plate. He laughs, then, like there's something so funny about a messy tray of food, but Jongin finds himself laughing, anyway. If Joonmyun ever asks him why he's laughing, he can always choke it up to Joonmyun's funny laughing face, the way his features contort when he scrunches his nose and closes his eyes as he throws his head back in a fit of laughter, the shrill sound trapped between his lips and the warm hand cupped over his mouth finally giving themselves away.

♬ ♬ ♬

Tuesday means there's only one class to attend, and that's early in the morning. It's a shitty 8 a.m. time slot, but he'll take that over a lone 3 p.m. schedule where he's just prolonging the agony of waiting for his once-a-week class to come and end quickly. He pokes his head inside the room and finds no one inside, not a single soul. It's understandable – when you take a class as early as this on your first week in university, chances are you'll be spending the first thirty minutes of the period waiting for the rest of the class to arrive and another thirty wishing your professor won't report to work so you can have a free period for the day.

He shuffles inside the room, then, and takes off his headphones, wearing them around his neck, instead. He turns up the volume when The Wanted comes on with 'Lightning'. It was drizzling earlier when he left the dorms. He looks outside the window, into the vacuum of space at the center of all the towering buildings. The rain pours even harder.

He doesn't realize he's already fallen asleep until he feels someone poking his shoulder, and then a soft whisper of, "Excuse me, is this TV and Media class?" He blinks a few times, then, trying to refocus his vision, and looks up to meet a pair of familiar, sleepy eyes. He knows this person from… yesterday, History of Film class. The guy who wanted to change the world. "Um, the course code is 1143–"

"Yeah, this is TV and Media class." He looks around, then, and finds one girl sitting at the far end of the room. He hates taking the seats at the back. Gives him an excuse to sleep in class. He can't afford that when he has a scholarship at risk. "Huang Zitao, right? From Film class?"

Zitao furrows his eyebrows, but smiles as soon as he pieces the information together. "Ah, yes! You're… Kim Jongin? The one who has a really bad–"

"Yeah, the username. I should really change that." He pulls out his phone from his pocket and creates a calendar reminder for it. Zitao takes the seat beside his but doesn't speak, only looks around and sits on his hands, deliberately missing Jongin's eyes. It's disconcerting at first, but Jongin gets it after a while. He would've gotten it sooner if he hadn't fallen asleep in class _without_ their professor around. That would have been embarrassing. "You came alone? Didn't make any friends in class yesterday?"

Zitao shakes his head. He parts his lips to speaks, shuts them tight, then opens them again. He seems to be struggling with his words or maybe simply expressing himself in a foreign place. Jongin gets it, the feeling of not belonging to a group and having to adjust to change. It's twice as hard in Zitao's case, however – he has to conquer the language barrier _and_ homesickness. Times like these, Jongin wishes he wasn't so averse to openly expressing adoration for anyone. A pat on the back would do, but even that he can't bringing himself to do for Zitao.

He tries a gentle poke on the arm. This coaxes a small smile and gentle laughter from Zitao. "I can be your translator. Although I'm shit at Mandarin."

"Ah, I know that word!" It's almost funny how Zitao's features brighten up at the mention of the curse word like it's offering him a taste of home. "Really? You're okay with that?"

"Sure," Jongin replies. He wears his best smile. The stretch at the corners feels a bit weird. He's never been the type to offer friendship. Most of the time, it's the other person approaching him and making small talk on all sorts of topics, then coaxing Jongin to drop bits and pieces of information about himself. And that's how people end up staying in his life – sharing a piece of themselves with Jongin in an attempt to make Jongin 'comfortable' about giving a piece of himself to others. It's Joonmyun dropping a short explanation on how he ended up being $uho, the internet celebrity, and Jongin letting Joonmyun know that, _hey, hyung, I remember you talking about that in one of your first few videos._

"I mean, I could probably use a friend, too. It's… hard to survive school without a good set of friends." Jongin takes a deep breath and offers Zitao a smile. Zitao looks up at him with a familiar glint in his eyes, something akin to… hope? Or amusement? He can't tell at the moment. It's half past eight in the morning and it was probably a bad decision to take a nap while waiting for the professor because he can't even read Zitao's expression right now. He extends his hand in Zitao's direction, nonetheless. "Friends?"

The corners of Zitao's mouth tug up in a smile that reaches his eyes. He sort of smiles like Sehun when he's having too much fun or finds something cute. It's the same face that Sehun wore when the student council back in high school dressed Jongin up as a peashooter for Halloween. "Cute," Sehun had said then, and reached out to pinch Jongin's cheeks. He'd tugged hard on Jongin's skin until Jongin found it fitting to knee him in the groin. "Really cute."

A woman in heels then enters the room, the impact of her heels against the floor making a loud noise. "Good morning, class," she says. "So, you're only three here? Am I dropping the rest?"

Beside Jongin, Zitao whispers _help_ in a weird mix of Mandarin and Korean. Jongin gets it, though – the furrow of the eyebrows is universal language for _help, she's scary, I need someone to hold my hand through this thing–_

The rest of the class appears just before professor – Kwon Boa, Jongin soon learns her name somewhere along her narration of her previous job as a media practitioner – expresses interest in dismissing the class of three early. "Couldn't risk to catch a cold just to get to class? I mean, c'mon, there's always these vitamin C supplements. Or multivitamins! Those are great!" she teases them, but there's no lilt in her tone, nothing but the way she drawls _catch a cold_ hinting that she's telling a joke and not actually expecting the class to brave the heavy rainfall outside. To be fair, Jongin has seen most of these students during breakfast, has almost bumped into them while he was walking down the halls. If they really wanted to report to class on time then they really would find a way to work around the situation.

"But it was raining really hard, sonsaengnim," says one of the students who's soaked to the bone. Jongin hasn't seen this guy anywhere. Probably lives nearby if he had to take the hard beating of the rain just to get to school. In Jongin's mind, he screams, _c'mon, kid, don't say anything you'll regret–_ "And vitamins only work when you're actually taking care of your body–"

"And that's exactly the kind of mentality that people these days, now blinded by advertising, no longer have," Boa says. "Very well, kid. What's your name?"

"Lee Taemin," he mumbles.

"Plus ten for you, Lee Taemin, for not falling prey to the evils of advertising. Yet." Boa winks. To the rest of the class, she says, "I want everyone to be as objective as Taemin when viewing ad materials – print, web, TV, radio, you name it. Because you know what? The reality is that media is slowly poisoning us. What we don't realize is that media has slowly become a tool for educating people, and!" She heaves a sigh, shaking her head dramatically. _I bet 10,000 won she used to do theatre,_ Jongin thinks. "It's being misused. So as the next gatekeepers of media, I want you all be extra careful when studying ad materials. I want you to think twice before Googling what's-that-product that promises superior skin-germ protection on TV because _maybe_ that's not the soap for people _your_ age. It's the soap for kids who love frolicking in their backyards, playing on the ground and rolling around in dirt."

Jongin bites the inside of his cheek to keep himself from grinning. Beside him, Zitao lets out a sound of wonder. This professor is good.

"And plus ten for you, too, Kim Jongin. Kim Jongin, right?" Jongin nods when Boa locks eyes with him. "Because this kid was here thirty minutes before the class was even set to begin. I mean sure, he's probably just overeager, but at least I know he wants to learn and respects other people's time. Plus five for you, guy beside him and girl at the back, too."

Jongin feels his cheeks burn and feels Zitao gripping his wrist tightly. He shoots Zitao a glance and laughs a little when he whispers, "What if the others hate us for getting additional marks?"

"Then we'll just have to come in late next time," Jongin whispers right back. A smile breaks across Zitao's features as he furrows his eyebrows like he's saying, _Don't be silly. That's not supposed to be an option._ "Or never come in late and just rack up the points."

Zitao snickers. "Sounds like a plan."

TV and Media class feels too short for a three-hour class after Boa takes them through all these cool advertisements back in the 80's, then compares them with current commercials that, 50% of the time, have inserts of sexual innuendoes or plain in-your-face branding that's more annoying that effective. The bell rings just before they get to the last comparison, and Boa gives them the task of looking for ten poorly executed advertisements, "In print this time, not commercials. I want you to work with your hands and browse magazines, not e-zines." Boa waves a finger in the air. "And I _will_ quiz you on the advertisements you pick so you better research on those well enough for next week's session, okay"

"I'm in love," Zitao coos beside Jongin. He turns to his side, meeting Jongin in the eyes, and takes a deep breath. "I regret _nothing._ I love Korea, I love this university, I love this subject–"

"Mr. Huang, it would be great if you could share with us advertisements from China, as well." Boa rests a hand on his shoulder and Zitao mouths, _I'm going to dieeee._ "Always good to go beyond our tiny Korean world and explore the world out there, yeah?"

"Yes, ma'am," Zitao replies, voice shaky but the smile on his lips bright and steady. "I'll do my best!"

♬ ♬ ♬

Jongin disappears around the block after class, making his way to the main hall _then_ to the student grants office. He was summoned earlier, through text, the head of the office saying Jongin was yet to fulfill all the requirements for the scholarship grant, and Jongin goes through a checklist in his head. He's sure he submitted everything – certified true copy of grades, the results of his physical exam, the signed form saying that he's not involved in any illegal activities– He _couldn't_ have missed anything because he had Sehun double-check his requirements, too.

Jongin gulps hard and chuckles to himself. He'll have to message Sehun when he gets back to his room, check up and see how he's doing miles away from home. Sure, he said before that he wanted to study abroad and studying in the U.K. is his dream come true, but Jongin can't help but wonder how Sehun is doing. That kid's a cuddly bear disguised as a grizzly, after all.

"Ah. Jongin, great to see you," Mr. Shim, the head of the office, says. "Take a seat. This will be quick. Do you have a class after this?"

Funny they should ask since Jongin came to the university with his entire semester already planned out for him. He doesn't expect Mr. Shim to remember his schedule down to the last detail, though, so he shakes his head and smiles as he makes himself comfortable in his seat. He clasps his hands on his lap, clenches his fists, and takes a deep breath, then twists his torso so that he's facing Mr. Shim. "I'm only planning to go to the library, sir. Go through the magazines there. Our professor in TV and Media wants us to look for badly done print ads."

"Boa? I mean Ms. Kwon?" Mr. Shim asks. Jongin nods. "Ah. She hasn't changed."

Jongin wants to press and ask more, but Mr. Shim turns his attention to two stapled papers on his right. He hands it to Jongin, then leans closer, shifting in his seat as he does so. "I summoned you here for one simple reason, and that's because you've yet to return to us with the name of the organization you'll be joining as a requirement for the scholarship. Remember, you signed the contract. We need you to accomplish this membership form by the end of the week. Just an expression on intent to join will do, but you _will_ have to coordinate with the moderator or the club head of the org you're planning to join to get their signature here. Then we'll keep in touch with you on the progress of your application."

_But it hasn't even been a week since school started?_ Jongin wants to say. Instead, he replies, "Ah, that's right… Sorry for my negligence."

Mr. Shim waves a hand. "It's okay. I forgot this shit, too, back when I was studying." He takes a deep breath then stretches his arms in front of him, almost knocking over the cup of pens to his right. "Cut it too close to the deadline but I managed to make it, in the end."

Jongin cocks an eyebrow, then promptly remembers that he's right in front of _Shim Changmin,_ one of the biggest names in Math and Science back when he was still in middle school – he remembers seeing Mr. Shim's name in books. He sits up, then, snaps up his spine, and nods in thought, instead. "Wow."

"Sometimes we get too engrossed in studying that we forgot the... side projects, I'll call them that. Things of interest that are a bit related to what we're actually studying. That was how I ended up in the yearbook committee at first before moving to Yonsei's debate society." Mr. Shim laughs a little. "Not that you needed to know but – So, Jongin, I'll expect your membership intent form on Friday, at the latest? Have you given it thought yet, which club to join?"

"Well, there _is_ one. The only one," Jongin begins. He takes a deep breath. "But I'm not sure yet if I should join it? I mean... It will contribute little to my academics?" Bullshit. He gulps hard. "I... guess? " He scratches the tip of his nose and he feels his palms getting sweaty. He can't risk this, not right now, when he has to practice his drawing skills for storyboarding class tomorrow. That's what the course information said in the website, at least – that students have to at least know how to make clear and understandable illustrations for storyboarding purposes. "It's pretty interesting, though."

"The mere fact that it's the only one you're considering says a lot," Mr. Shim says. He cocks both eyebrows at Jongin, then, and says, "Why don't you give it a shot?"

Because he's not sure how he'll do in the recording booth _knowing_ that his online career idol and life peg might walk in on him and might laugh at him when he stumbles on his words? Because he's supposed to be focusing on producing sound, not thinking of doing all these little DJ spiels with Joonmyun in the booth, because he _chose_ to major in film? There are a lot of reasons, but all of them are far outweighed by the fact that getting into broadcasting might do him well. Might earn him a ticket to a good job in the big networks, even, since it's the standard path aspiring filmmakers take before venturing into media or agency work, then establishing their own production companies.

"I'll think about it," he says, doesn't say, _this is really silly but I don't want Joonmyun-hyung to laugh at me. Or $uho, whatever name he wants to go by._ They're the same banana, albeit a bit different. Maybe Joonmyun is the Senorita and $uho is the Cavendish. "I'll go to the club room later to... ask around or something. I'll definitely get back to you with the signed membership intent form, sir."

Mr. Shim smiles at him. "Great. That's all I needed to know."

Jongin pushes himself off his seat and bows in Mr. Shim's direction, then leaves the room the soonest he can.

When he gets back to his dorm room, he fishes for his phone and pulls up Viber as soon as sees the _connected_ notification on his screen. Two messages from Sehun come in, one of them a picture of his dorm room in U.K., and the other a picture of the campus. It's bigger than K-ARTS, and Sehun looks so small being eaten up whole by all the buildings towering over him. He looks... out of place. Like the country is chomping off a bit of his hair with every intake of breath. Like _doesn't belong there._

Another message comes in, saying, _u probably wudve liked it here uknow? i mean uve always lovd trees and stuff yeah. message me when u c this? miss u kid c:_

Jongin allows himself to fall back into his bed, pillows swallowing the small sound of distress that gets caught at the back of his throat.

It isn't everyday that Sehun displays affection through the written word. He has a thing against it, against leaving proof of his tender heart, and while Jongin knows that Sehun will maim him if he ever found out that Jongin has an entire folder dedicated just to those kinds of messages, screen captures of them, he doesn't still doesn't delete them. One day, they'll look back at these messages and maybe laugh. Sehun is shit at being subtle. Jongin is shit at feigning nonchalance everytime Sehun drops a casual _miss u kid._

_sry it's crazy busy here at school :| i have a free day now!! just finished class hehe but i have to go check w d broadcasting club later._

He sees Sehun go online again, then taps his thumb on the edge of the screen. He hesitates for a moment, then types, _met $uho already haha. remember wat u said b4 that he's probs some weird dude w/o friends? well he has friends but he doesn't have $uho's swag irl_

_lol u shittin me man r u srs? as in THE $UHO?? who made a bieber feature? :o_

_yup one and the same ;)_ Jongin laughs a little then turns over to lie flat on his stomach. _and lol guess wat he's in d broadcasting club JUST LIKE HE SAID IN HIS VIDEO HAHA i thot he was making that up!!_

He didn't. Or maybe he did. At one point, he'd like to think that his obsession with knowing this online persona, with being exactly like him, ate up all semblance of logic and sense in his brain. And then he graduated from his days of naivety and discovered that anyone can edit information in Wikipedia. It _is_ called a _wiki_ for a reason, after all. At least he knows the truth now, and Joonmyun hadn't even tried to deny that he _is_ $uho. It's not as if it made any sense that he'd lie to Jongin any further – Jongin clearly knew his life story from the inside and out. It was only a matter of time until he found the strange overlaps between $uho's press release online and Joonmyun's life tidbits.

He turns over again so that he's lying flat on his back, then lays his phone face down on his stomach when Sehun's reply doesn't come in within the next fifteen seconds. Maybe Sehun stepped out of his dorm to grab something to eat. Maybe he fell asleep. It's ass o' clock in U.K. right now, after all. The time difference sucks; the distance, even more.

_gonna step out now bud, catch u again sumtym?? ig i'll try out in the broadcasting club bec i need an org for the scholarship._   
_HUHUHU WISH ME LUCK :(((_

He slips his phone under his pillow and fixes his eyes on the ceiling. The silence between them, the long wait, and the knowledge that the crap about distance making the heart grow fonder? That only works when both parties have a mutual agreement that they do have each other's hearts. Sehun has his; he has Sehun's number and the honor of being #1 on Sehun's speed dial. Only just.

♬ ♬ ♬

He wakes up two hours after, sweat trickling down the curve of his face and his shirt feeling sticky and icky against his skin. He'd forgotten to turn on the aircon before falling asleep, having jumped straight to bed after checking if the wifi was on. He fishes for his phone from under his pillow, then, checking for a response from Sehun, but to no avail – Sehun hasn't replied yet and hasn't even viewed the message yet.

Screw timezones and time differences, Jongin thinks. He pushes himself off his bed in one fluid motion, the falls back into his bed to lie on his stomach. Five more minutes.

When he finally brings himself to take a shower and change into fresh clothes, it's already three in the afternoon. It's a weird time to be heading to the club room – he isn't counting on anyone to be there are this hour since 3-hour classes in the afternoon, the first slew, end at 4 p.m.. He trudges to the cafeteria, then, grabbing a quick snack, then drops by the library. He'd intended to go earlier to browse a few magazines for his TV and Media class but Mr. Shim just had to summon him to remind him about the club membership. He contemplates texting Soojung, then – she'd given him her number before parting ways with her yesterday – but he wouldn't want her to get into trouble in the middle of class. For all he knows, Soojung might be facing some terror teacher right now and she might get a few points of demerit if she so much as checks her phone for an incoming message. There _are_ scary professors like those, some more terrifying than the others. Boa started out exactly like that but ended up being the best professor he's encountered so far.

He recalls Zitao's smile that time, when Boa rested a hand on his shoulder. _You can't fall in love with someone after having just met them,_ he wanted to argue then, but maybe that's just him. Maybe Zitao isn't so jaded about liking people just yet, hasn't had his heart broken. Lucky kid, he thinks, but at the same time, _poor kid._

He stops somewhere between the aisles with books on media and communication theories _and_ the history of film. He makes a left turn, then, perusing the book titles one by one, running a hand through the spine of the books.

"Oh, hello," comes a familiar voice. Jongin looks over his shoulder and _really,_ they should stop meeting like this. It makes Joonmyun look like some creepy stalker when it's probably the other way around. "You're looking at... media theory books?"

"Hi, hyung," Jongin says as a greeting. He shows Joonmyun the book he'd grabbed from the shelf, then – the history of film in pictures, with a side-by-side comparison with the films of today. "Figured I'd do some light reading for film class."

Joonmyun snorts. It sounds weird coming from him, Kim Joonmyun decked in a polo shirt buttoned up all the way, and dark jeans. "That's not light reading. I read that before. On a whim. I may or may not have regretted checking out the book somewhere along the way."

Jongin laughs a little. "Aren't you, I dunno, supposed to be some model student who likes every single book out there, hyung? _The_ Kim Joonmyun of the broadcasting club, talking shit about a film book?"

Joonmyun cocks an eyebrow at him, but the hard corners of his lips soften into an easy smile. "I like how you say my name. Makes me feel important," he says. He chuckles, then, "And don't exaggerate – I haven't read all the books yet. Maybe 75%. Still a long way to go."

_Makes me feel important,_ Joonmyun's voice echoes in his mind. It sounds nothing like $uho's weird rapping and the way he talks to his online subscribers. This is Kim Joonmyun, the student who's passionate about broadcasting, not $uho, the online sensation. The only overlap is their love for music, but that isn't something you can rip from Joonmyun's soul or $uho's identity. It's like music has been ingrained in them already, like they're born with it.

This is Kim Joonmyun, Jongin's supposed life peg and career idol, dissuading him from picking up a book for 'a bit of light reading'. It makes him want to do exactly that, except he _has_ to read this at all costs. "My 1% is nothing compared to your 75%, hyung," he retorts. He risks a glance at Joonmyun again, then says, "And your name has a nice ring to it. Rolls nicely off the tongue. It's... a nice combination of syllables."

_That actually sounds stupid,_ Jongin hears a voice in his brain that sounds a lot like Sehun's. Or his own. He can't tell right now. The aircon is blowing down at the crown of his head and he's sensitive there.

"Well, thank you," Joonmyun replies, voice dropping down to a whisper. There's a small smile tugging up at the corners of his mouth, pulling up at his cheeks. Joonmyun is pressing his lips together so tightly, though, like he doesn't want to give himself away yet. "First time I've heard that. I don't think anyone has given enough time to study the way the... syllables of my name sound together?"

"I do it when I'm bored," Jongin confesses. He clutches the book he'd gotten earlier close to his chest. "Maybe I should do a study on that. Or an analysis of how the way people say someone's name affects the person's mood or overall perspective of life–"

"That would be interesting as a graduate thesis but I think that's better suited for a psych major?" Joonmyun laughs a little. "You've got a lot of things going on in that wild mind of yours. It's… pretty amazing."

_Pretty amazing!_ Something in Jongin jumps, hops, _hobbles_ and stumbles, landing flat on his ass. Right now, he's just glad it's not him or something Joonmyun can see unfold before his eyes. "Right. I'll definitely need someone to guide me during thesis." He chuckles. "I mean, I have these really weird ideas that can work sometimes but I just have to have someone to tell me what works and what doesn't? What–" He smoothens the crease on the plastic covering of the book and thinks, _well, this can be a behavioral study, too, reflex fixing. Focus, Jongin. Focus!_ "My best friend was a lot of help when I was trying to decide on a university to try out for. And in picking a course. I knew what I wanted then but I was so much better in other things, so–"

"So you're here now, in K-ARTS, doing something you could possibly fall in love with." Joonmyun smiles as he ends, voice trailing off into a soft hum. It's almost as if Joonmyun hates silence, prefers to have even the faintest sound running in the background to save him from the pain of listening to white noise. "You _do_ like film, right? Even if it seems like you're more… I don't know, fascinated with sounds? Music?"

_Well you're here in front of me. What would you expect?_ Jongin wants to say. Instead, he says, "I like it a lot. Enough for me to…" He laughs a little at the memory of playing around with MovieMaker at three in the morning. "Enough for me to use MovieMaker for a project back in high school even if it crashed, like, thrice? Four times?"

Joonmyun grimaces, the soft upward pull at the corners of his lips tugging down to a scowl. "Oh God, that's awful. How did you even manage?"

"Patience, hyung. Patience." Jongin nods, slow, almost solemn. The mere memory of it makes him question his own threshold for video-induced pain. "Well, I'm patient with stuff that involves my hands?"

Joonmyun furrows his eyebrows for a moment, and then he's smiling again, a peculiar upward tug on the curl of his lips. His eyes are squinted like he's trying to _figure something out,_ but he isn't scrutinizing Jongin. Studying, maybe, but studying _what?_ Jongin's weird use of words that makes people doubt if he's actually the class valedictorian? His fast-changing facial expressions? The push and pull of worry and panic and feigned calmness in his features? Jongin can't figure out at the moment. All he knows is that Joonmyun is _staring at him_ with the funniest glimmer in his eyes. Like there's something truly interesting about Jongin that he wants to spend a bit more time observing.

"I meant art stuff. I do that with my hands." He tucks the book in his arm and holds up both of his arms. "Hands? See? Art hands?"

Joonmyun blinks, and then it's gone, the peculiar look now replaced by his usual expression. "I get. You're good with your hands, Jongin."

Jongin digs his hands into his pockets and nods. "Great. You're good at this catching on thing," he mumbles. He turns to his side, facing the books again. At least books won't judge him and laugh at him. At least he doesn't have a reason to panic in the face of books. He traces the spine of one on media theories and asks Joonmyun, "Have you read this one, hyung?"

Joonmyun takes a few steps forward, inching closer to Jongin, and Jongin tries hard not to laugh when he sees Joonmyun tiptoeing. It's _cute._ Imagine your idol tiptoeing just so he can take a peek at something over your shoulder. Imagine your idol almost tripping over, then imagine him holding onto your arm for balance, grip so tight you can feel his nails dig into your skin. Imagine the thumping in his chest beating against your skin because he's so close, and Joonmyun's so damn close to him now, hot breath fanning on Jongin's skin, tickling and prickling him and sending a funny sizzle of heat down his abdomen.

Joonmyun whispering, "What is it?" as he inches closer, lips brushing against the back of Jongin's ear. Joonmyun leaning even closer, and Jongin trying very hard to not bury his nose in Joonmyun's hair that smells a lot like eucalyptus. Heck, eucalyptus isn't even supposed to be romantic or allude to anything nice and sweet and heart-thumping.

Jongin pulls out the book with a shaky hand and says, "This one."

It takes a while for Joonmyun to pull away, even snaking a hand between Jongin's waist and his arm to draw the book closer to his face. Jongin tries hard not to look to his side but how can he not when Joonmyun is breathing against his skin, the steady ride and fall of his chest burning a weird sensation where their bodies are pressed? How can he when Joonmyun is humming in his ear and chuckling as he reads the write up at the back? How can he when Joonmyun is _touching_ him, returning the book to him and saying, "This one's okay. It's a breeze to read. I was able to finish it in half a day without distractions. Then again, it was summer when I picked that up."

_I don't have to know that?_ a voice at the back of Jongin's mind screams. He really doesn't have to . All he needs right now is for Joonmyun to take five full steps _away_ so Joonmyun won't see his fingers trembling, won't feel his knees shaking or the quickening pulse on his palm. "Oh."

" _Oh_ you're going to check it out? Or _oh_ that's too bad, you were looking for a more exciting read?"

_Oh, I actually feel sad now that you're not rubbing up against me anymore?_ is the most accurate answer, but Jongin doesn't say it. Instead, he says, " _Oh,_ in that case I'll know how to spend the rest of my day today?"

Joonmyun chuckles and takes a few more steps back, then pulls his shoulders back. "You really love studying, don't you?"

_Iloveyourvoice,_ he almost croaks. He nods in reply, instead, and turns his attention back to the shelves, seeking salvation, but it doesn't come. Joonmyun invites him for late lunch because, "I can hear your tummy grumbling, Jongin. Don't deny it. Come on, my treat." He has two mottos in life: when life gives you free food, don't say no; and when the free food turns out to be great, be sure to pay back the person in kind, never in cash. That's rude. Also, food is easier to accept.

So after late lunch and after Joonmyun introduces him to his weird 'kimchi-stuffed mulmandu', Jongin asks, "Have dinner with me, hyung?" because it's the only logical thing to do, right? When someone does you a favor, you do your best to thank the person. In this case, food is the best medium. Joonmyun's lips fall open into a small 'o'. Jongin waits for it, the sound of rejection, the 'I'm sorry but you're not cool enough for me to hang out with you too many times in a week', but it doesn't come. Instead, Joonmyun squints, chuckles, laughs at him, then clasps a hand on his mouth. He shakes his head like he's trying to say _it's not what you think,_ but then Jongin can't think of _anything_ at the moment. It's not as if Joonmyun will allow him, with the way heat glued their thighs together under the table or the way Joonmyun wraps his fingers around Jongin's wrist as he shakes his head, again and again, to the easy rhythm of his laughter.

"I'm sorry. That was just so… abrupt? I… didn't see that coming." Joonmyun takes a sip of his water but doesn't let go on Jongin yet, keeps his hand there, pressed against Jongin's skin. "Sure thing. I'll just… have to head to the club room in a while? And maybe stay there for an hour? Residency stuff." _'Stuff'! He said 'stuff' again!_ "Then we can meet here for dinner?"

"Oh. Right. Broadcasting club." He promptly remembers the membership intent form that he has to fill out and submit at the end of the week. "Can I come with you? I… And um, can you… run me through what you guys do there? Because I _might_ be interested to join. Y'know. Scholarship stuff." He gulps hard and contemplates on choking on mulmandu, instead. "It's a requirement."

Joonmyun chuckles, then slowly unwraps his fingers from Jongin's wrist. Jongin wants to say _don't!_ , but instead he bites the inside of his cheek and waits for Joonmyun's answer. "Ah sure, no problem. I can even show you some behind-the-scenes videos of the past two broadcasting weeks that we did. It's really exciting!"

"Oh yeah, Soojung mentioned that. Said she was part of the… second one?"

"She was in charge of getting special guests that year. Drove her insane but she _did_ admit to enjoying it." Joonmyun hums. "Maybe you can do that this year if you _do_ join. Or maybe…" Joonmyun purses his lips. "Maybe you'd be better manning the booth _or_ hosting the program." Joonmyun finishes with a smile.

"I'll take the booth," Jongin replies. He summons his best smile. " _If_ I get in."

"You will. I have faith in you," Joonmyun declares, like he just _knows_ Jongin won't screw up and won't stumble on his words. Like he knows Jongin inside and out. There's something in the undertone of his voice that fuels Jongin a little, though, like he can actually _be_ that guy behind the microphone, talking to all the students of K-ARTS through the PA system. "You'll pull through."

"I'll do my best?" Jongin tries. Joonmyun frowns at him. It's not a nice look on him.

"Don't let me down, kid," Joonmyun answers. He gives Jongin's hand a light pinch then pops the last piece of kimchi on his plate in his mouth.

Jongin takes a deep breath, swallows hard, and nods slowly until he can convince himself that he can make it through the test. Keeps his eyes glued to Joonmyun's own because he doesn't have a choice – Joonmyun has pinned him in place with his stare and the soft smile at the corners of his mouth and his faith in Jongin, those four words stinging more than they should – _Don't let me down, kid._ So Jongin clenches his fists and promises, to himself and to Joonmyun, that he _will_ pull off a miracle and do something great even if he knows nothing about broadcasting outside of what he's read in text books.

"I won't let you down," he says.

"I know you won't," Joonmyun whispers. "I'm certain."

♬ ♬ ♬

Joonmyun holds the door open for Jongin and shuts it behind him with a soft thud. With the afternoon sun shining beyond the window and the lights here not yet turned on, the room takes on a different look. It's softer, less of the serious club room Jongin had seen earlier and more of a shelter from the noise outside. The acoustics here are great – none of the noise beyond the door, the noise of the students passing by the corridor not seeping through the walls. "I love this place. This kind of silence always helps me think," Joonmyun says, then, and lays his bag down on the table. He stretches his arms in front of him, then behind him, fingers locked. Jongin catches the dull 'popping' of his bones. "It's just… the right amount of quiet."

"Yeah. Sometimes silence can be a bit overwhelming," Jongin whispers, then sets his own bag down on the couch. He makes his way to where Joonmyun is, then, but Joonmyun shakes his head, mouths, _stay_. Jongin tosses his bag on a different chair, then, making space for Joonmyun, "Won't you need the desk, hyung?"

"A laptop is called a _lap_ -top for a reason," Joonmyun argues, then plops down on the empty space beside Jongin. He lays his computer on his lap, then, and Jongin only rolls his eyes. "I find that studying in a relaxed set up helps me absorb information better. I don't know with you, but I know a handful of my friends find the same method effective."

Jongin nods in thought and remembers seeing Soojung sitting on the floor with her legs folded under her weight one time. Her position looked so uncomfortable then but the darting of her eyes from left to right made it seem like she had no difficulty studying that way at all. It makes sense – when you're forcing layers upon layers of data to stick to your brain, the least you could do is to fool your body into thinking that you're relaxed. So the information gets retained easier, stays there in your mind for an extended period of time. It's a win-win situation.

Joonmyun drums his fingers as the laptop boots up, then types his password on the text box. He turns to Jongin with a smile, then asks, "Okay. What do you want to know about the broadcasting club?"

_I want to know more about you,_ would be the appropriate answer, but he doesn't want Joonmyun to drop his laptop. It's much too expensive. So he says, instead of dropping that comment, "What's a normal meeting day like, I guess? And the activities you guys do leading up to broadcasting week? Because that's the culminating activity, right? Or at least the most important club activity?" He scrunches his nose, dissatisfied with his own answer. He's sure he wants to get more information out of this, but he just can't think straight at the moment. Too full from his meal, he can feel his eyes giving away and drooping. Pulling at his cheeks so he can relax his muscles and _maybe_ sink into the couch and fall asleep– "Soojung mentioned trainings and workshops. I'm… really interested in those things."

"A normal meeting day?" Joonmyun purses his lips in thought. "Well, Thursday is club day so everybody meets here at five in the afternoon. Gets together for some drinks – and I mean warm lemon and honey juice, because we have to take extra care of our throats. Even the non-broadcasting majors have developed a habit of not taking cold drinks!" Joonmyun exclaims. He seems so proud of himself; Jongin is amused. "At the end of the session, we take a shot of whiskey. Since we're less than ten people total, a bottle of whiskey lasts us a month or two."

"A shot of _whiskey?_ " Jongin furrows his eyebrows. "Isn't that old people drink?"

"It's sore throat's worst enemy," Joonmyun states, ending with a slow nod.

Jongin cocks an eyebrow. "Hmm. Okay, then. A shot of whiskey. Drinking aside, though, what else do you do on meeting days?"

Joonmyun talks about the members sharing new music with each other, talking about broadcasting styles of famous newscasters on TV and even on radio. "We do practice broadcasting, too, in the booth. Every other week, two people board and the rest shoot them questions between segments, testing how quick they can come up with a response. That's _very_ important if you're planning to be a radio DJ. Quick thinking and wit – those are key is sustaining the interest of your listeners. So the white noise? We try to minimize that. Eliminate it altogether, if we can." Joonmyun turns to look at his monitor for a while, navigating to a file within too many folders. "But if it's unavoidable, we just… try to make all sorts of sounds."

_Hence the humming,_ Jongin says in his mind. He nods and hums. "That makes a lot of sense. But…" He tilts his head a little and tries to recall one of those 'How to Be a Great DJ in 10 Steps!!!' videos he's watched before. "The 'um's and the 'uh's, those are speech crutches, right? I mean you can use those to drawl out sounds and stuff but wouldn't that violate, I dunno, some sort of code in proper broadcasting?"

"Yes, and no," Joonmyun replies. He clicks the file twice, then drags it to the VLC Player icon when it doesn't load properly. "Yes, we can't use it, and no, while it's really bad practice to use speech crutches even in the tightest of times, you won't be penalized for it. Just… Well, can you live with the thought that you did that online? _Uuuh, about that question of yours–_ " Joonmyun tilts his head from side to side as he modifies his voice. " _What I think about it is that, uuuum–_ "

"Okay, that's just _bad,_ " Jongin says, laughing a little.

"Exactly. It's awful. So while you won't violate any broadcasting rule by doing it, you'll be penalized by losing listeners because nobody likes a DJ who wastes air time. Also, you might lose advertisers."

"Oh right, advertisers. Do you practice spiels for those, too? Like, voice-overs for TV commercials and actual radio commercials?"

"Ah, now _that's_ where a bit of voice acting experience comes into play." Joonmyun drops a hand on Jongin's thigh, then gives it a light squeeze. "Come closer. I'll show you how we did it before. This is the actual broadcast that was shown in TVs all around the campus last year. Notice how facial expressions make a lot of difference when delivering lines."

Jongin stiffens for a moment, but he slides closer nonetheless. Their thighs are pressed together now, and Jongin can feel even the lightest shifting of Joonmyun's muscles. It's crazy. He should be a sound expert, not an expert in Joonmyun's muscle movement. He should be–

"Focus, Jongin," Joonmyun whispers. He rests a hand on Jongin's knee and rubs slow circles with his thumb. "You won't regret watching this. It will help you a lot during your qualifying test."

His vision whites out for a second, but soon he's back and blinking at the screen, trying to focus. The black panel fades into a colorful footage of the sound booth inside. It looks a bit different, what with the colorful art card at the back that has the name of the show on it. _Love, Love, Love_ it says in chunky Hangeul, and the host points at the board behind him and his partner before addressing the camera with a wave.

"It's you," Jongin mumbles, pointing at Joonmyun on the screen. Joonmyun only chuckles in response as Soojung walks into the frame for a second, headphones worn over her head, then leaves as soon as she's handed them rolled up sheets of paper. "Soojung was the sound director?"

"For that particular day, yes. It's our last day. The sound director caught a cold then. Hadn't been sleeping for too many nights already." Joonmyun laughs at the memory, like there's something so fascinating with the fact that the direction _fell sick_ just as broadcasting week was about to end. He chokes at the last bout of laughter, though. "Soojung shone in this show, though. We ran into a lot of technical difficulties but she handled it with ease even if she was still nursing an injured back then."

The Joonmyun in the video clasps a hand on his partner's shoulder, then cocks his head to the side. He isn't saying anything, but it looks as if he's trying to convince the guy, _don't worry. You won't blow it. You'll do great._ It seems to be a habit of his, placing so much confidence and faith in people. It's a sin. Jongin refocuses on the video when Joonmyun holds up his hand, counting down – 3… 2… 1… – then claps his hands together before leaning closer to the microphone.

_Good morning, Korea National University of Arts! It's a wonderful summer morning and it's the last day of the week. You're probably cramming requirements, praying to the gods that today's exam will go right, praying for the best. We know how that feels, living on the edge and living with danger during these final days of the semester._ The Joonmyun in the video pauses, then takes a deep breath. _And because we do, we know the perfect playlist for you to get your wheels turning and make this cramming period the best possible day in your semester yet._

_That's the silliest, corniest spiel ever,_ Jongin wants to say, but he'd be lying if he said that he wasn't able to _relate_ with that statement. It's so simple that maybe even grade schoolers can connect with it, that even those who aren't exactly _studying_ but are working on something and have been given tight deadlines might even be able to relate. _Simple words,_ Jongin takes note of that. _Use simple words for maximum impact._

He leans closer and worries his bottom lip as the video plays on, the show unfolding in front of him through Joonmyun's laptop screen.

They discuss simple topics – student life, music that can get you pumped for your last few exams, and then music that can help you relax after the whole tirade tides over. _I personally like listening to Michael Buble,_ Joonmyun says in the video, and Jongin sneaks a glance at Joonmyun, cocking an eyebrow at him.

"Seriously, hyung. Michael Buble?"

"Don't burst my bubble," Joonmyun mutters. "I like his voice. It helps me sleep at night."

That makes a lot of sense. Michael Buble _does_ have a soothing voice, and Jongin supposes some people just can't relax to bubbly songs like that of Taylor Swift's (absolute favorite) and the few upbeat ones of Gabrielle Aplin's. He listens to Josh Groban from time to time, but by the end of a track he usually feels like crying especially when he plays _You're Still You._ In his defense, it's a song loaded with so many emotions that they leak on his skin and from the corners of his eyes. He doesn't _cry_ ; he just expresses his emotions through the slow falling of tiny beads of water from the corners of his eyes. Those aren't tears.

"Oh, there's Josh Groban," he whispers when Joonmyun mentions him in the video. It's Joonmyun's turn to cock an eyebrow at him as if asking, _really? You listen to Josh Groban?_

"Don't burst _my_ bubble, hyung," Jongin says. He sticks out his tongue. "I like his voice better than Buble's. Martin Nievera's voice, though. _Wow._ "

Joonmyun hits the space bar and shifts in his position to look at Jongin. Their knees bump, and the jolt of electricity at the contact of their bones numbs Jongin's thighs. He gasps a little. "You listen to _Martin Nievera?_ "

"A few of his songs. This and that." Jongin looks away. There's nothing wrong about liking obscure artists! Nievera's pretty popular in the Philippines, though, and his concerts are always sold-out–

"That's amazing. I don't think I've met anyone who's into OPM," Joonmyun whispers. Soon, laughter bubbles on his lips, teases a smile out of him. It reaches the corners of Joonmyun's eyes and makes them crinkle and Jongin thinks, _Oh. That's cute._ "You've got great taste in music, Jongin. You really should share that with others. It's always great to share wonderful music with people. You'll never know when they need it."

"I… found him through your Gary V recommendation," Jongin confesses. He looks to his side, then fixes his eyes on his feet. He catches sight of the loose knot of his shoelaces and the worn out soles. He should buy a new pair soon, maybe as a two-months-after-his-birthday present. He only got himself ice cream on his birthday because he was too busy coming up with his spiels for the video he submitted to K-ARTS. "And then everything went downhill from there. Spent a few good hours on Youtube just hopping from one video to another. So I found out about MYMP and Up Dharma Down and Bamboo and–"

"The same way that you found my channel, right?" Joonmyun asks. The smile on his lips turns into a weird twist of the mouth, like he doesn't know if he should smile or grin or laugh or _whatever._ "You said you were video-hopping that time and you were looking for the Mousse T song–"

_Do not mention the Mousse T song because that brings back memories of my sordid affair with my laptop, hyung._ "Right! Mousse T! Amazing artist!" Jongin laughs a little, but for the most part it comes out as dry chuckles. Or hiccups. "Yeah, like that. And the rest is history!"

Joonmyun's gaze lingers a little longer, then he shifts in his seat again, leaning back into the pillow. "Okay, then," he whispers, then hits the space bar again. "Back to the program."

Jongin nods in agreement and leans closer to get a better view of the footage. _Big mistake,_ he tells himself as he catches a whiff of Joonmyun's shampoo. Eucalyptus shouldn't remind him of Joonmyun, shouldn't have this effect – cold fingers, a loud thumping in his chest – on his body. Eucalyptus has a relaxing scent, not a stimulating one.

The video culminates in a song and dance number from the two hosts – Jongin forgot the name of the other guy but it sounds a lot like 'Lay'? Like the chips, only singular. He can make out Soojung clapping her hands in the air as in urging the staff and the audience to do the same, and then Lay leans closer to his microphone, starts serenading the audience to a ballad in Chinese. His voice is soft, sweet, the type that is so easy to listen to and get lost in, an easy tune that is nice to listen to while having tea in the afternoon. Jongin finds himself nodding in appreciation, swaying in his seat, and it isn't until halfway through the presentation that he realizes that Lay had harmonized with Joonmyun earlier, and that Joonmyun is singing the same song under his breath.

"You sing, hyung?" Jongin asks, voice soft and faint so as to not startle Joonmyun. "Hyung, you sound great!"

Great is an understatement – Joonmyun sounds amazing. There's uncertainty in Joonmyun's voice, he can hear it, but the timbre and the tone of his voice is nice, easy to sing along with, easy to fall in love with. It's the type of voice you'd like to hear in the morning, while having coffee, or exactly the type of tone that you want to listen to after a long and draining day. Joonmyun seems to think otherwise, though, because he stops singing and humming and pauses the video with a press of the space bar.

"Only sometimes. But I don't, if I can avoid it," Joonmyun mumbles. He scrubs to the last part of the broadcast where Lay is delivering his spiel and Joonmyun thanks the audience and the school management for supporting their project. There's a light tremble in Joonmyun's fingers, but only just; if anything, it might have only been Jongin's imagination. He'd yawned earlier when Joonmyun balled his hand into fists at the start of the video; that must have fucked up his vision.

Joonmyun turns to him again, with a bright smile this time, and an expression in his eyes so unreadable. An unfamiliar glint that washes the color off of Joonmyun's features, that makes him look three years older and completely unlike the sunshine-bright person who'd walked in on him and Soojung in the booth earlier this week. It makes him look _different_ – not quite Joonmyun, but not entirely $uho – but Jongin can still make out hints of Joonmyun in the practiced smile on his lips, the tight corners of his mouth. The tight knot of his tie and the way the sleeves of his polo aren't rolled up.

"Do you want to watch another video?" Joonmyun asks. He pulls up the folder of sound recordings and scrolls through the files. "I have a few more here. Maybe you'd want something different? The voice acting seminar? Since that's the main reason you displayed interest in the club and Soojung said–"

Jongin wants to see that carefree person in the video again, wants to _hear_ Joonmyun sing because he sounded so happy that time, like he didn't have a care in the world if he had a reputation to uphold or if he didn't get his Mandarin pronunciation right. He _needs_ to find that old Joonmyun somewhere in the present, in the person beside him right now whose fingers are hovering the trackpad while Joonmyun searches for another video to play.

"Can I join the broadcasting club, hyung?" Jongin blurts out. He takes a deep breath, surprised at this own recklessness, but he finds himself repeating the statement, this time louder, with more conviction. _You'll notice that the facial expression makes all the difference in delivery, Jongin._ "Hyung, can _I_ join the broadcasting club?"

Joonmyun blinks a few times. "This is about the scholarship requirement, isn't it?" He laughs a little. "Back in the day, when I was still in first year, we were required to join at least one organization because–"

"Because students who have graduated at the top 10% of the entire country's population are supposed to know how to balance academics and extra-curricular activities, yes," Jongin finishes. But there's one other reason. "That, and because I want to."

"Why?" Joonmyun chuckles. "Why not an organization that will help you hone your skills in filmmaking all the more?"

"Because why the hell not?" Jongin replies, almost laughing as he ends. People keep asking him about his decisions in life – why K-ARTS, why an art course, _why not one of those management degrees like the one your father took? I'm sure he'll be proud_. Why is he taking up film? Because he wants to. Why is he choosing the broadcasting club over the others? Because it seems interesting and because _he wants to._ He's sick of following someone else's dream, living someone else's life just because his father failed to be the icon of success that his grandfather wanted him to be. He just wants to enjoy life after spending more than half of his life slaving over studying for an exam that was said to dictate his future.

"That's… not a good reason, Jongin," Joonmyun replies.

"I know, but it _is_ my reason. I want to join because I think it's interesting. Because…" He worries his bottom lip, then rushes, "Because I want to! Because I want to know how it feels to influence people and for people to actually _listen_ to what I have to say!"

He clasps his hands over his mouth and gulps hard. "I'm sorry, hyung. I didn't mean to–" He buries his face in his hands. "I shouldn't have just… blurted it out like that, should've thought things through–" _Should have run them by Sehun_ because Sehun would know what to do. Sehun always seems to know what's best for him and for _them_. "And I know that self-control is an important trait as a DJ so I'd understand–"

"So you'd also know," Joonmyun begins, shutting the screen of his laptop and placing it on the table beside him as a does so. He reaches for Jongin's hand, then, gives it a light squeeze, and continues, "That being passionate is also an important trait as a DJ." He offers Jongin a smile, but all Jongin gets from it is more questions. "So I say, give it a shot. What's holding you back? I don't think it's the fact that you tend to ramble a lot." Joonmyun chuckles as he ends.

_The fear of failing,_ Jongin wants to say, but he doesn't. Instead, he returns the smile. "Nothing," he says, then clears his throat as if in an attempt to flush down the other words that are threatening to fall from his lips. He looks at Joonmyun's hand on his own and thinks, _Among other things._

"Nothing," he repeats, voice clearer than before. The tension in his muscles eases a little. "Nothing at all."

♬ ♬ ♬

Sehun's message is the first thing Jongin sees the following day. _hey man hope u went w d broadcasting club thing. myt b gud 4 u hehehe c:,_ it says, and for a moment Jongin contemplates snapping a picture of his membership intent form and sending it to Sehun. It's six in the morning, though, and his photography skills have always been shit at such an early hour, so instead he goes with, _yeah i did with luck hahahuhu._ He trusts Sehun to understand the underlying message in that – _it's ass o' clock in the morning but yeah, thanks for the well wishes, man, I really appreciate it._

He turns over so that he's lying flat on his stomach, then goes through a mental debate on taking a shower first _then_ grabbing breakfast or doing it the other way around. If he goes to the cafeteria now, at this hour, he probably won't run into anyone. Plus, Wednesday classes don't start until ten in the morning. There's enough time to freshen up after, say, an hour-long breakfast at the cafeteria. Thank God for the long class hours on Tuesdays and Thursdays, really, even if he doesn't have classes on Thursdays.

He scribbles something on a sticky note that reads a lot like _DON'T FORGET TO BRING THIS JONGIN!!!!_ and draws an arrow facing down, then sticks it to the envelope where he's placed his membership intent form. He'd filled it out last night, in the club room, before he and Joonmyun left for dinner. Joonmyun helped him with the essay there asking, _Why do you want to join this organization? How do you think will it help you with your academics?_ In return, he bought Joonmyun coffee jelly for dessert. It's a fair trade.

In his phone's calendar, he notes, _maybe buy sth for joonmyun-hyung?? sweet food/cake/lollipop idk? consult soojung!!_ because sometimes you have to go the extra mile when you borrow someone's time and brains. He slips his phone in his pajama pockets, then, and grabs the first cardigan he finds in his closet. It's a simple gray one that he remembers the Oh family giving him three Christmases back. This one, he takes a picture of, and sends to Sehun, saying, _missin u kekeke._

He isn't lying when he says that. He trusts Sehun to know this truth.

The cafeteria is blessedly empty at this early hour. The servers have already placed the food in the buffet area, though, so Jongin trudges on, slippers flopping noisily on the tiles. He slows down his pace, then, each step more quiet than the previous, and cranes his neck to check the food selection. Classic seaweed soup for the Korean soul, juk, kimbap, and _there's barbecue chicken at 6 a.m._ Jongin places a check beside that and decides to order just half a roll of kimbap. He asks for both tea and a chocolate drink, too, because he needs the energy and one can never go wrong with chocolate. Once his order is complete, he picks up his tray and looks for a comfortable spot to spend the next hour in. He chooses the one two tables away from the window – it's just the right amount of hot and cold here.

He sips his soup quietly and takes some kimchi, then pulls out his phone to read some articles on film that he'd saved in his phone last night. Nothing like a quick read to get the day started.

It isn't until halfway through his meal that someone shows up beside him, a sleepy Zitao who still has a smidgen of toothpaste flaunted on a corner of his mouth. Jongin reaches up then, limbs moving completely on instinct, and wipes it away with his thumb. "Mmsorry," Zitao mumbles, then plops down beside Jongin. He almost ends up spilling seaweed soup all over his shirt but Jongin goes for the save. then presses the cold bottle of water on Zitao's cheek. "Up all night– studying–" Zitao yawns. "With people–"

"Yeah, yeah, I get it," Jongin says in reply. He chuckles a little.

Zitao's in his sleeping attire, as well, still lethargic and without a care in the world. It's a complete contrast to the Zitao he met yesterday, dressed to kill. This one's softer, gentler, unlike the warrior trudging the streets of a foreign country that he'd faced the day before. Also, very hungry. Zitao takes two long sips of his soup and starts eating his ramyun, alternating between the noodles and his half-roll of kimbap.

"Didn't see you after class yesterday," Zitao whispers. He chokes on his food a bit and Jongin offers his tea in response. "You had class after that? You just… disappeared."

"Aaah, I had to go to the grants office," Jongin replies. "And fix some… org stuff."

"Sounds pretty scary," Zitao whispers. He takes a sip of the tea and hums. "I wouldn't risk joining an org on my first semester. I just want to… get used to things first."

That's the thing – Jongin doesn't have a hand in things. It's part of the contract he'd signed with the student grants office, with _the school_ , and of course he has to honor that. It would be rude and stupid not to. Besides, there _is_ logic behind the office's reasoning that students must learn how to manage their time and balance academics and extra-curricular activities. He's done it before, back in middle school and high school, so what's stopping him now?

"I don't really have a choice," Jongin says, huffing. "I have to join an org. I'm… pretty excited, though? I think it's going to be fun." He bites off a piece of his barbecue chicken and seethes when he sinks his teeth into the chili flakes. These things should come with a fucking warning. "If I get in, at least."

"Well, good luck. You seem pretty happy about it," Zitao mumbles. He wants to ask Zitao what he means by that but Zitao's just sleepy, lethargic, probably not in his best state. He's more chatty when he's a hundred percent awake. _Give it a rest, Jongin._ He pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "And it looks like you're the type to chase a dream that you're really passionate about. Like…" Zitao hums. rubbing the tip of his nose. "A dog chasing a cute little bone."

"It's supposed to be tasty, not cute." Jongin laughs a little. "Who cares about cute bones?"

"I don't know! Sometimes, people are like that – they fall for something they think is good for them, but in the end the impact from the fall sucks because it's not what you've always wanted." Zitao drinks some of his tea again, then turns to face Jongin. He looks a bit more alive now. "Also, cute bones exist. I got my dog one before I went to Korea. It was my parting gift for her."

"You have a _dog?_ "

"Yeah," Zitao replies. He cocks an eyebrow at Jongin. "Problem?"

"No, nothing! It's just…" He waves his hands in front of him. "I just didn't peg you as the type to take care of people."

Zitao scoffs. "Things aren't always what they seem, you know."

If meeting $uho is anything to go by, Jongin will say that Zitao's right. He hadn't expected $uho to be a little guy with bouncy hair and really nice eyes. He hadn't expected $uho to be the broadcasting club president, really, even if $uho already said that he was part of the club and that he was playing a bigger role that _involves a lot of talking to people,_ Jongin still remembers that episode. What he did expect, however, was for $uho to have great taste in music even in real life. Joonmyun pulled up a playlist filled with Something Corporate, Sum 41, and M2M songs last night. Jongin never realized how fun it was to listen to M2M until he had to power through the book he'd just borrowed that afternoon for 'light reading'.

"Yeah," Jongin whispers, then pushes his plate of kimbap. He looks at Zitao, then, meeting him in the eye. "You want?"

Zitao stops for a moment, traps his bottom lip between his teeth, then says, "Um, sure. Thank you."

He doesn't see Zitao again until Introduction to Production class. He runs into Soojung, too, and takes the seat beside hers, then whispers in her ear, "Can you reserve that one beside you, too? For a friend. I think you'll like him." He ends with a wink, but Soojung quickly wipes it off his face with a grimace and a scowl. Jongin keeps the grin on his lips, hoping that the frown will be upturned somehow, but Soojung is unrelenting.

"Fine, fine. I was kidding. He's a sweetheart, though! He's in the same course as mine but he's really into animation. I think he'll get into the post-prod side of things eventually." Soojung cocks an eyebrow at his as if saying, _and I'd be interested because?_ "Just sharing. I feel like sharing today."

"Share your enthusiasm for attending class at this hour," Soojung groans. "Can't tell if I love it or I hate it because it makes me ten times lazier than I already am. Why am I even in a film class?"

"Because this is basic production whose theory also applies to sound design and broadcasting?" Jongin offers.

Soojung rolls her eyes. "Whatever."

Zitao arrives not too long after in a black wifebeater that puts his toned arms on display. He raises an arm, waving at Jongin in a manner so enthusiastic that Jongin fears Zitao will hit the person closest to him – in this case, it's Soojung. Soojung seems unfazed, though, eyes tracing the length of Zitao's bare arms, then shifting to the dip of his back just before Zitao pulls a blue blazer over his shirt.

"Thanks for saving me a seat," he tells Jongin, beaming, then slinks away when he sees Soojung's sharp gaze. "And sorry for, uh, trespassing? Your territory?"

Behind Soojung, Jongin mouths, _That's just her front. She really doesn't bite,_ but Soojung catches him, pins him with a stare and grabs him by the wrist. "I bite. Really hard," she declares, voice barely above a whisper but still loud enough for Jongin to catch. "Now, just because I think your friend has nice arms–"

"–is hot–" Jongin stops midway, then clears his throat. "Yeah. Nice arms. I'll need to take another look at those."

Soojung growls at him. "Why are you in honors class?"

"Because–" Jongin wiggles a finger in front of her. "I know how to balance acads and fun."

Soojung only shakes her head in response, and makes it her mission to not look to her left whenever the teacher walks to that side of the room.

The professor delves into the difference between the roles of the line producer and the executive producer right off the batt. "What we'll focus on in this class is line production. That's how to manage your talents and your director, and even the expectations of the original writer and the screenplay writer if you're working with a movie adaptation of the book. Or your voice actors and the scriptwriter of your material, for those majoring in broadcasting." The professor gives them all a quick look, then continues. "That's also how you… sort of marry the vision of the direction and the budget. It's a difficult skill to acquire, to know how to balance the artistry and the logistics of how to support each and every scene of a film, but after this class I promise that you will be more than equipped to go out and attempt to produce a film, maybe collaborate with some indie production houses."

She paces around the room, then, explaining what makes a good producer, and even drops names of real people who are known to have a good track record when it comes to line production. Says she's worked with them – the best of the best. She seems to know what she's talking about, though, and Jongin finds himself leaning closer, absorbing her lecture. Beside him, Soojung is throwing glances at Zitao but nothing lasts longer than a few seconds. Jongin laughs behind his hand in an attempt to not disrupt the discussion.

"And the most important trait that a line producer must have? Quick thinking," she says. She gives the class a quick scan, then grins. "So expect pop quizzes with situational questions that you need to find the answer to."

Jongin gulps hard. He's not good with things like these. It usually takes him a good five minutes to finalize a decision he's sure he won't regret, even longer if he has to decide on a course of action on a life-changing event. _Guess I have another reason to do practice broadcasts,_ Jongin thinks to himself, then checks his file case from the membership intent papers. He lets out an exhale once he sees the papers pressed against the front-facing side of the case.

The only time to breathe that he gets in between classes is during lunch, and even that he spends the first half of rushing to the grants office to file his membership intent form. Mr. Shim isn't around for a chat, at least, so he won't lose even more time of his lunch break just trying to break free from. Mr. Shim's life lessons that mostly constitute statements like, _it's okay to fail as long as you perfect the next try,_ or _once you reach a state of perfection, push the bar even higher and set a new benchmark for it._ They all make sense, yes, but Mr. Shim has a way of speaking with such a sense of urgency that Jongin can't help but feel like a superhero being given the task of saving the world from the evil clutches of towering academic requirements.

Jongin likes superheroes. There should be an academy for that, for people who go over and beyond what's expected of them. Add the ability to surprise people to the mix and he'll fit the bill even more.

He returns to the cafeteria some twenty minutes after and makes a beeline for the buffet table. He cranes his neck to check the food – a few things he can't recognize, and then the staples, kimbap, ramyun, mulmandu. He goes with kimchi jjigae this time and extra seasoned spinach. After hearing what people had to say about the Introduction to Cinematography class, he'd decided it's best to fuel himself with happy food. Or at least properly before he attempts to go into class that attempts to marry the objectivity and subjectivity of film.

"I'm pretty excited," Zitao whispers beside him. He'd started eating way before Jongin even arrived, and yet he still hasn't finished his food, complaining that the ramyun is too spicy. "I've always wanted to know how to produce a certain kind of lighting in movies and pictures, you know? Like–" He fishes for his phone and scrolls through his Instagram pictures, explaining his goal for three to four of the images he'd taken. "I want something… dramatic? Soft lighting that isn't so soft. Warm that is just the right about of hot but still a bit cool to the eyes?"

Jongin blinks several times and pops a slice of kimbap between his lips instead of questioning Zitao even further. "You ask our professor that, okay?" He says, giving Zitao a pat on the arm. "I'm sure he'll be able to answer that."

In cinematography class, Jongin tries to find a seat that's far from Zitao's so he can focus on everything he has to learn without having to deal with Zitao's running commentary on light play and how colors are mixed on a digital canvas, but to no avail. Zitao quickly secures him a seat beside his even before he can utter a word. Surprisingly, though, Zitao is quiet throughout the class, with only the occasional gasp and humming spilling from his lips during an interesting discussion on how temperature plays an important role in setting the mood and tone of a scene.

"Take Harry Potter, for example. You'll notice that in the first movie, in the scene where Hogwarts is shown for the first time, the lighting is cool, a bit more on the blue side than a good balance of yellow." Kim Jonghyun, their professor, scrubs to that part of the video, then draws circles in midair where the cool lighting is most apparent. "Do you know why that's important in the case of _Harry Potter,_ specifically this scene?"

"Because…" Jongin stops drumming his fingers when Jonghyun looks at him, one eyebrow cocked and a corner of his lips quirked up. "Hogwarts has to have a certain air of mystery to it? I mean, it's a school for witches and wizards. There's–" He traces the sparkles on the screen in midair, too. "Sometimes it's not enough that you have sparkles in the scene to make the viewers feel that _ah, that's right, this is a magical place._ You need a weird hint of blue in the air. Atmospheric music in the background. That's _really_ important." Jongin laughs a little. His penchant for beautiful soundtracks is showing. "Sometimes you have to do a little extra to more effectively relay the message of the scene, even if it's just one small scene."

Jonghyun nods, slow and deliberate, and grins. "Very well said. Ten points to Gryffindor!"

Jongin doesn't even fight the urge to smile right back at Jonghyun and giggle a little. This will be his favorite class for the semester, he just _knows_ it.

♬ ♬ ♬

Three long hours of talk on cinematography dissolves into an interesting discussion on different uses of camera angles, and how the proper use of the handheld technique can dramatically change how a scene looks. Jonghyun talks a little about sound direction, too, how each and every scene _needs_ to have an extra layer of ambient sound even if it's just a faint layer of white noise.

"Even the low thrumming of an air-conditioner will do. Or…" Jonghyun bites the inside of his cheek, looking to a side as he collects his thoughts. "Ah. You know the sound of light. It's much thinner than whirring noise, but with crackles from time to time. Those little things. You have to pay extra attention to those because the reality is that when you're seeing a movie, you're not just _using your eyes._ If that's the goal then let's just look at pictures. Not even animation." Jonghyun paces around the room and settles on a student's desk, sitting on the edge. "You use your sense of _sight_ , because you don't just look at a film; you _watch._ You use your sense of hearing, as well. The sense of touch, too! You know that eerie cold feeling when you watch horror movies? How's that achieved?"

"Sound direction," comes a voice at the back of the room.

Jongin looks up at the sound of the door being shut, then glances over his shoulder. " _Good_ sound direction and design, I mean. Also, extensive research on different kinds of sound effects."

Jonghyun laughs a little. "You are such a show-off, Kim Joonmyun." To the rest of the class, he says, "This kid here is a thesis advisee of mine. Spends 90% of the time following me around like some sick puppy. Please bear with him."

Jongin wants to laugh, but at the same time he wants to ask, _Why are you here, hyung?_ Instead, he summons soft laughter, trying to pull up his cheeks with the biggest smile he can wear.

"And yeah, he might drop by from time to time because _apparently,_ I'm a hard professor to find. Does that make me a rare Pokemon?"

Joonmyun cackles, then quickly clasps a hand on his mouth. Jongin wouldn't _dare_ laugh at a professor that way. "You're not rare unless you have a catch rate of below 17%."

Jongin's breath hitches. He feels around for his phone and thinks, shit, when will he get his stipend for the month? He needs a good postpaid line so he can be connected to the internet all the time and message Sehun in times like these. Nonetheless, he launches Viber and types, _dude he speaks pokemon I AM SO DEAD_

Jonghyun meets Joonmyun's eyes across the room, then turns to the class with a shake of the head. " _Never_ idolize this kid. Don't be like him. And don't talk to him while we're having a lecture. Girls, I know he's cute, but no, you can't get his number during my class. Maybe later." Jongin catches Jonghyun mouthing, _Wait in the corner. We'll go through your paper later,_ though. Joonmyun doesn't seem to know where 'the corner' should be, though, settling instead beside Jongin.

While Jongin's focus is immaculate, it becomes difficult with Joonmyun sitting beside him _in a freshman class,_ listening to Jonghyun's lecture and nodding like he doesn't know a thing about cinematography. Maybe he doesn't, but then Joonmyun said he was supposed to major in film until he shifted to broadcasting. In an effort to keep all of his focus on the Jonghyun's lecture, Jongin keeps his eyes trained on his professor, follows every movement of Jonghyun's hands even if Jonghyun moves around twice as much as the average human does. Joonmyun ups his game, though, leaning in a little to whisper in Jongin's ear, "I see you're enjoying his class. He's make a great thesis adviser if you're planning to produce a feature film or a documentary in your final year."

Jongin only looks to his side, doesn't turn to face Joonmyun or twist his his torso to get a better view of him. "We can discuss that after class, hyung."

"Just a suggestion," Joonmyun replies. He chuckles. "Plus, this is a test. Focus is important in broadcasting. The office received your application earlier and I'm making the staff prepare a test for you. It will be fun."

Jongin clenches his fists. _Don't give in, Jongin. This is a test. He's the president and if you screw this up, you'll make $uho sad. I mean, you'll disappoint Joonmyun. You don't want that to happen, right?_ "Come at me, bro," he whispers in response, instead. He lets his nails dig into his skin when Joonmyun moves even closer.

"Bro? Really? _Come at me, bro?_ "

Jongin seethes. "I look forward to the challenge, _hyung,_ " he says as a retort.

Joonmyun leans a bit more, then, and pulls away soon after. "Better," he says, then leans back in his seat, facing Jonghyun.

The bell rings, signifying the end of the class, and the students wave Jonghyun goodbye one by one. Zitao engages Jonghyun in a quick chat, probably asking about how to achieve certain temperatures just by playing with the lighting because Jonghyun is saying, "You'll learn about that in the succeeding weeks. No need to rush. Tao." Jongin sticks around, then, waiting for Zitao to finish, rocking his legs back and forth in his seat.

"Sonsaengnim seems to like you a lot," Joonmyun says, voice growing louder with each passing second. He's carrying his chair, bringing it closer to Jongin's own as if the very little space between them isn't enough. He settles on the seat, then, once he's satisfied with the distance. "He doesn't make eye contact that much with people unless he finds them interesting. I'm guessing you answered one of his questions."

Jongin laughs a little. "That's not a tough guess, hyung. I graduated at the top of the class. Of course I'll answer the teacher's questions properly, the way they like it."

"No, no. I meant–" Joonmyun huffs, the blows at his bangs. Jongin's gaze on the whiteboard flickers, then fixes on Joonmyun. $uho does that side-bang-blowing a lot, no matter how bad that sounds. To be fair, he wasn't the one who coined the term; Joonmyun is to blame. "It's hard to explain. He doesn't just develop a fondness for a student on the first day of class because of a simple graded recitation. You must have answered really well."

Jongin shrugs. "He awarded ten points to Gryffindor. I guess that's a good thing."

"Ah. He used Harry Potter as lecture material." Joonmyun nods. "You impressed him, alright. And the house points are convertible to actual points in the grades, by the way."

Jongin's ears perk up at _convertible to actual points_. " _Yes,_ this is definitely my favorite class this term. _Absolute favorite._ "

Jonghyun's discussion with Zitao doesn't end until ten minutes after, and by then Jongin has already managed to coax a few clues out of Joonmyun on how the test will go. "Three parts, all of equal importance. All three will be held on the same day, so be prepared. I'll... leave things to your imagination," Joonmyun says. It sounds so sleazy when Joonmyun ends with a wink, but Jongin knows that Joonmyun means nothing like it – this is work, technically, and as the president of the broadcasting club, he has to be charming. Grudgingly so.

Jongin narrows his eyes at Joonmyun and sticks out his tongue. _How mature, Kim Jongin,_ a voice at the back of his mind says. He shuns it away, tells it to _bug off._ "Hit me with your best shot, hyung," Jongin says, bumping his fist against his palm. "I can take _anything_ you throw at me."

"Even a spiel in Spanish?"

Jongin furrows his eyebrows. "Uh, I can try."

"Or…" Joonmyun hums, then worries his bottom lip as he tries to come up with something. "A radio drama in Swiss. Then Chinese commercials between segments."

" _Hyung!_ " Jongin grumbles. "Not even professional broadcasters are made to do that _impromptu!_ "

"How about Parseltongue, then?" Jonghyun adds.

Jongin holds his breath, considering, then gulps hard. "I know the basics. I can introduce myself in Parseltongue and tell everyone I'm a Parselmouth."

Joonmyun cocks both eyebrows at him and smiles. He risks a glance at Jonghyun, then says, "No, sonsaengnim, you can't take him home. The kid still needs to render residency hours in the broadcasting club."

Jongin doesn't want to read into things especially since he hardly knows Joonmyun, but the lilt of the voice, the thick threat dripping from it speaks of the tiniest hint of possessiveness. Or maybe Jongin's just imagining things, because the next thing he knows Joonmyun is already sauntering away from him, walking to where Jonghyun is with two file cases filled with white paper. Maybe he is. Joonmyun probably just sees him as another junior, someone who has displayed interest in joining the broadcasting club and _maybe_ has better listening skills than most people. He isn't special. If Joonmyun ever thinks Jongin is, he doesn't show it. Instead, Joonmyun calls out to Jongin just before Jongin leaves the room, "Don't let me down, kid!"

_You can't take him home,_ Joonmyun's voice echoes in his mind. Jongin looks over his shoulder, and gives Joonmyun a wink. "I'll blow you away."

♬ ♬ ♬

Jongin holes himself up in his dorm room after class. There's still a good hour until sunset, but there's no reason to stay out. Sure, he has to look for print ads for Boa's class and maybe brush up on his Harry Potter knowledge, but he can do those tomorrow – he only has one class on Thursdays, after all. His classes may be spread across all days, but at least he doesn't have 12-hour class days where he has to wake up at six and get his senses going by eight in the morning, then retreat to his dorms a little before nine in the evening. He'd like to think he has it easier than most people, but he really does love studying and anything related to education. Extra-curriculars, not so much, but he has to live with that. He fell in love with debate when he was in high school. Shove a microphone in his general direction and he won't let it go until he wins an argument.

 _You can't take him home–_ Jongin shakes his head, rolls over so that he's lying flat on his stomach, and buries his face in his pillow. Joonmyun probably didn't mean whatever Jongin thinks he meant. He doesn't even know what that's supposed to mean. It's not as if Jongin can't be active in the broadcasting club _and_ still maintain a good class standing in his cinematography class. He can, and he knows he can give them equal attention if needed. It will just... take some getting used to, given that university is much more difficult than high school. He's positive he can pull off another one of those 'Kim attending extra-curricular activities and Jongin reciting in class and acing quizzes' things again. Maybe this time he should solicit the help of a third persona. 'Kai' might be able to help him out in other aspects of his life. Like being an online video jock or even a DJ.

"Do your assignment and prepare for the qualifying test first, silly," he tells himself, but makes no effort to push himself off the bed. A little rest won't hurt, anyway.

A little rest turns out to be three whole hours of sleep. His Torrent download _and_ seeding are done now, and he exits the program before checking his reflection in the mirror. His bed hair is awful but nobody cares about his hairstyle nowadays. Sehun isn't around to make sure his hair is neatly combed to the sides or that he washes his hair at all. At first, it was a chore, but after a while it became a habit. Then it became more of something to please Sehun with because Sehun loves nuzzling the back of Jongin's head. In a best friend kind of way, no matter how weird that makes Jongin feel.

He checks his phone – his message has been delivered and read already, but Sehun hasn't replied yet. _Give it a rest. You're timezones apart,_ he tells himself. _That era is long over and Sehun already said he's into boobs and not dicks. Move the fuck on._ Months after that talk and it still claws at his throat, leaves something akin to the taste of blood on his tongue. Gingerly, he fishes for his comb at the bottom of his bag and fixes his hair. He doesn't need to have Sehun around to fix himself up.

He laughs to himself. "That sounds so deep, Jongin. Where did you pick that up?" he asks his reflection. He waits for a moment, wondering if the man in the mirror will talk back to him, but soon shivers at the thought. "You made that thing up, punk. You're the best."

He fishes for his phone and slips it in his pocket, then grabs a notebook and a pen. Maybe he can squeeze in some research after dinner. He's always felt comfortable in the presence of books.

He trudges to the cafeteria in the same jeans, but in a white shirt this time. He'd drooled on the one he wore to class earlier, and suddenly he regrets not freshening up because he can still feel the stink of saliva on his skin. _Whatever. I'll eat a lot of grilled food or something or hope the scent of kimchi sticks to my shirt._ He orders a bowl of bibimbap and extra kimchi, then asks for a bowl of seaweed soup. It always helps the meat go down, somehow. It's also his go-to food when he feels a little down.

He stares at his reflection in the soup bowl and thinks, he sounds like a girl going through PMS. He would know – all his sisters are like this when they're really depressed. Except he's not bleeding through his balls and he's _glad_ he isn't. "Focus. Think of homework. Focus, Kai, come on!" he tells himself as he stares his reflection down on the soup bowl. "First, you're going to eat, then you're going to the library to look for old magazines or something. Then borrow the last three Harry Potter books–"

"Whatever did the soup do to you to merit such a face?" comes a familiar voice. He scrunches his nose and thinks, _It's not you, soup; it's me. And I'm going to deal with this like an adult._ "Did it blow hot air on your face? Did it burn your tongue?"

"We have to stop meeting like this, hyung," Jongin mutters. He looks up at Joonmyun, then down at their reflection on the soup, and back up. "Are you following me or something?"

Joonmyun parts his lips for a moment like he's considering saying something, then he's pressing them together, lips coming together in a tight smile. "You got me," Joonmyun replies, then sets his tray down on the table. He's having the same thing as he did the previous night – spicy bibimbap, seaweed soup, extra kimchi and a few more pieces of yellow radish. And then two mugs of tea. "I hope you don't mind that I'm joining you for dinner."

"Do I have a choice?" Jongin teases, and Joonmyun's expression goes tense for a moment. His eyebrows crinkle and Jongin can make out the bob of Joonmyun's Adam's apple in his neck. So he rushes, "Kidding! Go ahead, hyung. I could use some company."

Joonmyun shifts in his seat, then takes the plates off the tray. He arranges the dishes in front of him like he's plotting out a plan of attack against the neighboring tribe back in the early 15-somethings. Still, Jongin watches with morbid curiosity as Joonmyun systematically places one piece of kimchi on the rice, then a slice of yellow radish, then a piece of meat before taking the three together plus some rice in one big bite.

"That's... a lot of work, hyung," Jongin teases. Joonmyun only cocks an eyebrow at him, still halfway through chewing his food. "Do you have a system for everything? Like, even doing your homework?"

Joonmyun raises a finger in response, then swallows down his food in one fluid motion. "Yes, and no. I determine the order in which I do them based on two things – when they're needed, and the level of complexity." Joonmyun takes a sip of his tea, then continues, "Thesis takes precedence over everything, even my life." He chuckles. "Or food. Or my online things. I haven't gotten to working on a recommendation for the week yet, would you believe that?"

He won't lie that he's thought of asking Joonmyun – no $uho – how he manages to find time to make _videos_ of his weekly recommendations and the top ten's a long, long time ago. He has a message intended for that, saved in his drafts in Youtube, but he never got to send it to $uho in all the years that he's followed the Youtube sensation. Heck, he never even got to send his thank you message for $uho when he found out he got the scholarship because of his 'super DJing skills', not verbatim. Maybe he can do that after the try outs for the broadcasting club, _if_ he does get in. Or maybe he can just say that right now while Joonmyun's gorging on his food, still eating his bibimbap in a way that makes him wonder why Joonmyun hadn't just asked for a dissected version of it without the gochujang to bind the ingredients together.

"I can't watch you eat. It's... exhausting," Jongin groans. He stares at his reflection in his seaweed soup and sticks his tongue out at his face. When he looks back up, Joonmyun's laughing at him silly and shaking his head, lips slowly drawing to a light press against each other when his laughter dies down.

"Then just eat," Joonmyun offers. He dunks his chopsticks into the bowl and takes a generous serving of egg with rice. Jongin raises an eyebrow at him. "I eat it like this after a while, once I get past the initial, uh, organization stage."

Jongin shakes his head and mutters, "You're impossible, hyung. Why are you my idol again?"

Joonmyun tilts his head to the side, one corner of his lips tugging up even more. "That's a good question. Why am I _your_ idol?"

Jongin swallows around his own food and presses his lips together. He takes a deep breath.

There was a time when he'd think about the reason behind that for hours on end – $uho had a really bad fashion sense and questionable rapping skills. Fashion wasn't important to Jongin; rapping, maybe a bit, but he was still better than Sehun. $uho _has_ displayed hints of being really smart one too many times, though, whenever he makes all these references in his videos that Jongin wouldn't have known had he not read all of his textbooks for school from cover to cover, and then back. Maybe that was it – he liked the thought that being smart and studious didn't necessarily entail being the most prim and proper person in the block. He can be a lazyass bum who loves playing video games until obscene hours in the morning _and_ still garner awards for academic excellence. He likes the contrast. He likes being a mix bag of tricks. He likes the element of surprise that it brings. It breathes music into his otherwise insipid life.

Still, Jongin replies, "I'll get back to you on that," then stuffs his mouth with food. Joonmyun's lips are parted, poised to speak, but he doesn't press on. Instead, he begins to mix the gochujang with the other ingredients for his bibimbap and eat it _the way it should be eaten._ Jongin lets out a satisfied exhale when Joonmyun gives in, gets rid of his routine and just enjoys his meal. "I'm so proud of you, hyung."

"Silly kid. Say that once I've turned in my thesis," Joonmyun mumbles. His eyes go wide for a moment, then he's looking back at his food with a frown on his lips, like the sight of the mix disturbs him.

Jongin wants to ask, _what about your thesis?_ , but decides against it. He hasn't even known Joonmyun for a week yet. Sure, he knows his online persona, but they're two different people. $uho isn't a broadcasting student in the same way that Joonmyun _can_ sing but probably can't rap. They aren't the same banana. So he broaches a different topic, still capitalizing on Joonmyun's moment of weakness but not striking at the 'thesis' point of his life.

"So what kind of test will you be giving me, hyung?"

"Simple practical exercises," Joonmyun replies. He sticks out his tongue when Jongin meets his gaze. "The last activity, I'm pretty sure you've never done yet. I'd like to see you handle pressure like never before."

Jongin narrows his eyes at Joonmyun. If this is like one of those weird fantasies of his wheres someone sucks him off under the table and another guy fondles with his balls _while_ he's on air, then _damn,_ he'd be so down with that. _No, Jongin. Shit. Down, boy!_ "I don't get pressured. I never feel pressure."

"Right," Joonmyun mumbles. "And I'm just as tall as you are."

"I didn't say that, hyung."

"You get pressured. A lot. By the smallest things. Kimchi-stuffed mulmandu confuses you and makes you feel uncomfortable," Joonmyun states. "Trapped in a tunnel, it will probably take you an entire day to try to figure out how to climb out. And then a few more hours before you get started on your trek up."

Jongin scoffs. "You don't know me, hyung, come on–"

"Oh, don't I?" Joonmyun laughs a little. "Are you sure?"

Jongin squints his eyes, then leans back to get a better look at Joonmyun. Joonmyun's looking at him with a gaze so steady that Jongin almost feels like he's an open book to every single person, so easy to read and to figure out. And he hates it. He likes leaving a bit of himself to be figured out even by people who know him inside and out already. And here Joonmyun is, not a complete stranger but not quite a friend yet, trapping him with a gaze that could say, _I've got you figured out,_ or, _I know what you're thinking about. If I'm wrong, that's okay, I'm on my way there._

"Whatever," Jongin mumbles. He pops a few pieces of kimchi in his mouth, then says, "Let's just eat."

♬ ♬ ♬

Jongin makes a home out of the library the following day. He has all the thing necessary for survival – his headphones, a fully charged phone and music player, his glasses, and his notes, and then a list of his assignments and related paperwork color-coded is Post-it colors. This type of organization won't last until his last semester, he's sure of it, but for now he'll try to convince himself that he's capable of some semblance of system in his life. The sticky notes are a nice touch. It helps that the colors help keep him awake while powering through notes and books and whatever readings he has accumulated in the past week.

"What do I do with you?" he mumbles, poking at a list of magazines he's supposed to look for for his Understanding TV and Media class. He thumbs through his readings for cinematography class, then looks back at the list. "Do I really want to do homework this early or just sleep the whole day?"

"Do homework," comes Zitao's voice from behind him. He almost jumps in his seat, but manages to keep it together until Zitao settles down beside him. It's ten in the morning – he vaguely remembered Zitao mentioning that he has classes all days of the week, _but he's here_ and he's disrupting Jongin's silence. "Or at least suffer with me. I just want to play Omega Ruby over the weekend. I haven't touched it since I finished Alpha Sapphire."

"Well, _sorry,_ " Jongin blurts out. Zitao cocks an eyebrow at him, and Jongin rushes, "I mean some kids just have one version of the Pokemon game. I'm still waiting for the Ruby prices to drop. And for my stipend. I'll reward myself with a copy when that day comes."

Zitao narrows his eyes like he's trying to process the mouthful that Jongin has just said, then laughs after a while. "There's a 50% price drop this weekend. There's a game shop just a few minutes away from the university."

"You're the worst friend _ever,_ " Jongin groans. "How am I supposed to concentrate now!" _Focus,_ comes Joonmyun's voice in his mind. Damn, that was fast. After a while, he amends, "Whatever! I'll get my shit done today so tomorrow I can _squirm_ in excitement because _you_ told me about the price drop!"

Zitao grins at him, canines peeking, and flashes a peace sign. "You're welcome, dude. And thanks for lunch tomorrow!" Zitao widens his smile when Jongin turns to him with wide eyes. "Hah!"

The study session with Zitao turns out to be one of the most productive sessions ever. Zitao becomes quiet company as soon as he flips a book open, and they talk only when one needs something from the other – "Hey Jongin, do you have an eraser?" "At the bottom of the pencil case. Should be there somewhere. You have gum?" "Yeah, but only blueberry mint." "Cool. I love that." It's works for Jongin, this type of arrangement where he knows Zitao isn't expecting anything from him and doesn't _mind_ his presence. It's… an easy friendship, easy enough that when Zitao looks up at him, head tilted just a little as if asking, _you need more gum?_ , he nods and reaches for Zitao's pack and takes two pieces without question.

If this were Sehun then things would probably be the same, except Jongin would tease Sehun and make him pop two pieces of gum inside his mouth. And Sehun would comply, even brush his thumb along Jongin's bottom lip before prying Jongin's lips open because _that's what best friends do._ Jongin shakes his head, then, and takes a deep breath, then stares at the block of text on his textbook.

_Focus, Jongin,_ comes Joonmyun's voice again in his mind. He grips the pen tight in his hand and starts to scribble notes on the reading about proper use of color in cinematography.

He catches lunch with Zitao after the study session, and Zitao excuses himself to do 'other non-academic things' that Jongin supposes is organization-related. Zitao mentioned not wanting to have his attention split between academics and extra curriculars, but if he's part of the honors class then he really has to sign up for something. It's a safe assumption. There's always the option of not getting in through a scholarship program, though. He retreats to his room once he's done, then, and boots his laptop while he changes into much comfortable clothes. There's a Youtube notification sitting on his inbox when he returns, a message saying that $uho has uploaded a new song recommendation.

"Focus, huh?" Jongin mumbles under his breath. Doesn't Joonmyun have his thesis to worry about? Still, Jongin loads the video and feels his throat constrict when $uho walks into the frame.

It's the usual spiel from $uho – a greeting to the channel subscribers, a thank you message, then a glimpse of the top ten. $uho then tackles the recommendation of the week – an unassuming track from Sheppard whose upbeat tone can deceive people into thinking that the song _is_ actually a nice, happy one. _Wrong again,_ Jongin mumbles as the song hits the chorus, the words _'let me down easy'_ blaring through his speakers now. He looks at the volume of work he's accomplished today and thinks, with all these things done, there's something else that he can focus on.

The song fades out into an instrumental track and Jongin upvotes the video on instinct. It isn't until he's about to click the 'submit' button that he realizes that he's already typed up a comment, an assessment of the song more detailed than any comment he's left $uho before. His first thought is, _huh, I can actually dissect songs this way now?_ His second, _I can actually write a comment to $uho's videos without resorting too numerous exclamation points and unintelligible words?_

He looks up at the video, the last few seconds of the video playing, and $uho looks at the camera with a heated gaze and a small smirk on his lips. He snorts for a while, and then he feels his chest constrict, the slow-simmering heat in his chest bubbling and clawing at his throat. It fucking stings and leaves a bad taste in his mouth, something akin to blood and metal, but instead of taking quick breaths to steady his breathing, he holds his breath.

And then it happens – just a small window of chance where the hard corners of $uho's lips soften into something that resembles a smile, something more _Joonmyun._ His nails catch on the keys of his keyboard and that's what brings him back, shoots up pain to his elbows, then to his shoulders, and leaves his muscles in tense knots.

_The melody is really deceiving! Never saw the sad love song coming. It's a nice contrast to the upbeat tune. It's surprises like these in music that make the industry so magical, yeah?_ the message in the comment box says.

He takes a deep breath and hits the 'submit' button even before he can think twice about it. He closes the tab, then, and navigates to Google, pulling up transcriptions of old radio programs for practice.

♬ ♬ ♬

Joonmyun surprises him in the cafeteria that night, sliding next to him over dinner. "Do you have a thing for sneaking up to people?" Jongin asks, voice cracking a little as it peaks, and Joonmyun laughs at him. If, before, Jongin was positive that it was him who was doing the stalking, right now he isn't so sure anymore. All he knows right now is that Joonmyun popping up out of nowhere has fucked him up so badly that his hunger only gets worse.

His stomach growls on his behalf and he says nothing anymore when Joonmyun beams at him. "What? I thought by now you'd have gotten used to being my dinner buddy. I told you, all my friends have classes in the evening so I usually eat alone."

"Until I came into your life and pulled you out of your miserable solo dinners, yeah," Jongin groans. Joonmyun chuckles, but he doesn't tear his eyes from Jongin yet, keeps him pinned in place. He isn't even planning to run away or let himself get eaten by the ground. "I'm sorry, that was rude. I just– _Hyung,_ I'm telling you now, even the smallest things scare the crap out of me."

Joonmyun leans closer, just a few inches from Jongin's face now, and whispers, "Boo!" Jongin jerks back, closing his eyes on instinct, but he can still hear Joonmyun's heavy breathing close by. He can hear Joonmyun's light chuckling, his humming, can feel Joonmyun's hot breath tickling the bridge of his nose.

He can feel a thin veil of warmth creeping up his neck, settling on his cheeks, and he gulps hard in an effort to get rid of the feeling. But then Joonmyun pinches his noise and laughs when he freezes right in his spot, then laughs all the more.

"I am _not_ sorry for anything. Never gonna be sorry!" Jongin says when Joonmyun finally pulls away.

"Clue for the day: hosting," Joonmyun announces halfway through dinner. He arranges the empty dishes on the side by color, then draws his glass closer to him. "I figured that one you needed to prepare for, but I won't give you the topic yet. Just know that you'll be hosting. So what you'll want to practice is how to enunciate words properly without having to sacrifice air time."

"I'll pretend I remembered everything that you said so o-kay," Jongin says, nodding. "When– When will the test be, though? Will I have enough time to prepare? I mean–"

"Exactly one week from now. That's why I'm giving you a hint as to what to expect some d-day," Joonmyun answers. He grins, remnants of his smile crawling up to his cheeks, then the corners of his eyes. This isn't a look $uho fashions, but this might has well be Joonmyun's brand of '$uho confidence'. It's there in the way he tilts his head up just a little, the way he holds his chin up high and looks at Jongin like he's studying his every movement, even the hitch of his breath. It's like he's testing Jongin right here, right now, smack in the middle of dinner. Jongin isn't sure how Joonmyun feels about having a DJ board with leftover kimchi in his teeth. Jongin knows how he feels about that – embarrassed and uncomfortable.

"Is there, like, a secret to it? Like, is there a formula that I can follow when it comes to contracting syllables so that they don't lose their meaning?"

Joonmyun chuckles. "That defeats the purpose of this _this_ being a hint and only just," he says. "Research. I'm sure there's something on Google. Just choose your sources wisely. Forums are always great sources of information. It's almost as if you're conducting an interview with a panel of DJs all over the world in one day."

_That's pretty exhausting,_ Jongin wants to say, but instead he nods and worries his bottom lip. He pulls out his phone, then, typing up a reminder for himself – _forums are your savior!! look for fast-speaking something technicques–_ He hits the backspace to correct his spelling and thinks, _Dammit, Jongin, you're class valedictorian and you can't even spell 'techniques'. You're gonna need a shitload of practice on enunciation, alright._

"Sounds good," he says once he's done saving a note. He lays his phone down on the table, then meets Joonmyun's gaze. "Why are you helping me, hyung?"

Joonmyun looks at him, _just looks at him,_ with this weird sort of crinkle on the corner of one eye and a glimmer in the other. If he had enough energy and confidence to pull off a rap, maybe he would've already said, _bling, swag, bling–_ just to describe that activity going on in Joonmyun's eyes. But he doesn't have that. What he has is passable powers of observation and strong analytical skills that hasn't let him down yet. Those two have gotten him through some of his toughest times in high school.

"A lot of reasons," Joonmyun answers. He takes a sip of his tea – he's having the same thing again tonight, two cups of tea and all – then looks up at Jongin from the brim of his tea cup. "That you don't have to know. Why, don't you want to get in?"

He wants to. And more than anything else, he _needs_ to. There's a scholarship requirement to be met. There's something he has to prove to himself – that he hasn't experienced failure yet where academics and school are involved. There's a promise to be kept – that he won't let Joonmyun down. So when he feels the tension in his throat ease, he says, "Yes. I want to." He confesses, "I _have_ to."

"Then just be glad," Joonmyun says. "Besides, these are just hints. It's not as if I'm giving the solution set to the challenge away." He raises his tea cup in Jongin's direction, and it takes a while for things to click – Joonmyun's asking for a toast. Jongin isn't even drinking tea at the moment. "To your admission to the broadcasting club?"

Jongin gulps hard and raises his glass of water. "Or maybe, to success?"

Joonmyun nods. "I like the sound of that better."

Jongin meets Joonmyun halfway, clinking their glasses together, and holds Joonmyun's gaze even as he takes a sip of his drink. Joonmyun is unrelenting, as well, even more so with that small smirk tugging up at a corner of his mouth. There's something scribbled in the way his eyes crinkle at the corners, in the way he lowers his head without tearing his eyes from Jongin. There's something in Joonmyun that Jongin hasn't quite figured out yet, so doesn't look away, doesn't give up yet, keeps studying Joonmyun until he can't anymore.

Studying is something he's good at. Grades and academics have neither let him down nor put him to shame before.

They leave the cafeteria just a little before nine in the evening. Joonmyun excuses himself to do some last-minute reading before the library closes at 10, and Jongin declares intent to head back to his dorm. "Get enough rest, Kim Jongin," Joonmyun says before turning on his heel to leave. "You'll need all the rest you can get." And Jongin only nods in response, waving his hand in Joonmyun's direction as Joonmyun goes on his way.

"What are you doing?" Jongin whispers, eyes still trained on Joonmyun's retreating figure. "What do I with you, hyung?"

♬ ♬ ♬

Jongin's first Skype session with Sehun is a mess. It's the eleven in the evening on Friday and Sehun is still in his pajamas. Jongin, too, except it's dark in this side of the globe whereas the sun is shining brightly over Sehun's shoulder. "It's been a while, huh?" Sehun begins, voice still sticky with sleep and the smile on his lips lazy. It makes Jongin feel a bit guilty for pulling Sehun out of bed on a non-class day, but at the same time it makes him feel warm and fuzzy inside. Like explosions at the tips of his fingers, except less scalding. More dangerous, though.

Sehun shifts in his position, lying flat on his tummy now, then props his chin on his hands. "C'mon, start talking. You didn't get me out of bed just to stare at my face, did you?" he says, chuckling. Jongin rolls his eyes in response.

_What if I did?_ Jongin wants to ask. He gulps those words down, flushes them out of his system, and focuses on the drool at the corners of Sehun's lips. His fingers still feel a bit numb but his heartbeat slows down considerably. It's progress. "Your face? Ew. Wash your face first. You look horrible."

"Okay. Who called me at ass o' clock in the morning because he couldn't sleep because _ah, Sehunnie, I'm so nervous about the broadcasting club test thinggie–_ "

Jongin groans. "Oh, _shut up!_ "

Shut up means an hour-long conversation on catch up, with Sehun taking him through what he'd been busy with the whole week, how the weather in U.K. is life. "For the record, they can understand me. My English isn't as bad as yours," Sehun teases. Jongin only sticks up his middle finger in reply. Sehun tells him about his classes, as well, how managing people seems so different when viewed through the eyes of someone brought up in a different culture. "I mean yeah, I know laying people off is really hard but research actually says some managers even feel bad after firing someone. I don't think I've ever read a case like that in Korea. People there just seem so… detached sometimes."

Jongin laughs a little. It makes sense – Sehun hadn't said 'goodbye' before leaving for the U.K., simply left him a letter because _this'll save us the trouble of crying, yeah? C'mon, I know you'll cry and you know I will, too, because that's how we work–_ It makes sense for something like this to have a huge impact on him, to be an eye-opener. Sometimes you don't see how things can be done differently if you're stuck doing the same thing day in and day out. Sometimes you need to take a step back to see more clearly instead of leaning closer.

"Must be tough experiencing that and having to be objective about it, yeah?" Jongin comments.

"Yeah, but…" Sehun laughs a little, breathing noisily through his nose. "It has to be done."

"You make it sound so easy."

Sehun snorts. "It isn't. But I try to convince myself that it is." Sehun drums his fingers on his bed. "To make being away from my family more bearable."

Jongin waits for the follow up, but he supposes he could also fall under 'family'. They _have_ grown up together, after all. Sehun grew on him, then grew out of their promise to be _together, forever, right Jonginnie?_. Jongin should grow the fuck up. Still, he says, "You'll get through it. You're good at… dealing with things."

Sehun laughs this time, albeit a bit choked. "I try my best."

The following hour, Sehun indulges Jongin in questions about life in the university, his plans for the broadcasting club, and, "Are you really sure that you want to do this?" Sehun worries his bottom lip. "Sometimes I'm worried that you just do these things because people keep forcing excellence upon you? Does that even make sense? I mean, your parents wouldn't take any grade lower than 90. Then you started thinking that way, that even an 89 is bad and a disgrace to your family–"

"Yeah, I'm sure," Jongin replies. He leans back in his seat, then says, "I'm actually pretty excited about it? The thing's next week so… I'll need all the practice I can get."

Sehun narrows his eyes at Jongin, and for a moment Jongin wonders if Sehun's about to pass out on him. That would be the worst. "You wanna practice?"

" _What._ " Jongin cackles. "You know _nothing_ about being a DJ or radio broadcasting or whatever–"

"Doesn't mean I can't pretend I do," Sehun replies, ending with a wink.

Jongin takes a deep breath, then slowly lets out the air in his lungs, the tension in his shoulders easing just a little.

Sehun asks him easy things at first – what he thinks about a certain artist's new album, or maybe their new music style. What entering the realm of hiphop after doing pop-rock for the longest time implies or says about the listener's character. If music speaks of a person's traits at all, like, "You know how some judge others for their taste in music? Stuff like that," Sehun adds. Jongin manages to answer all of Sehun's questions, and weaves all of his arguments at the end of the session with a blanket statement.

"So I'm not saying that just because you are dressed like some rockstar, you're _supposed_ to like rock," Jongin answers. "Sometimes people like a good mix, y'know? Something weird about you. Something… something out of place _but_ isn't offensive. Like ketchup on fish or chocolate chips on fried ice cream."

Sehun nods, slow and measured, assessing. His eyebrows are furrowed only slightly and there's a tentative smile on his lips, playing at the corners. "Of course, you had to mention the fried ice cream."

"Ice cream is important," Jongin argues. Sehun loves ice cream and everything sweet. Who doesn't, though?

"Right. Ice cream is important." Sehun rubs his eyes with his balled fists. It's one in the afternoon there; he isn't supposed to be sleepy anymore. It's Jongin who's supposed to feel drained after two three-hour classes _and_ asking Zitao and Soojung to help him prepare for the broadcasting club test the following week. "I missed that, you know. Ice cream Fridays."

Jongin's ears perk up at that, and suddenly all the fatigue that had piled up on him the whole day lifts from his shoulders. "Well, I don't have data on my phone yet so we can't have ice cream Skype dates," he replies. The word 'date' rolls off his tongue faster than he can take a deep breath. "Skype sessions. Calls. Video calls. Whatever."

Sehun looks at him for a while, just looks at him, without saying a thing. There's a slow-forming smile on his lips that reaches even the corners of his eyes, breathes life into his irises and his cheeks. "You're tired, Jongin." You're radioactive. You're like a ticking bomb, just waiting to explode – Jongin gets it. This is Sehun's way of dodging the bullet and firing it back at Jongin, a gun pointed to his head. "It's past 12. Go to bed."

Jongin frowns. "I am in bed."

" _Go to sleep,_ " Sehun says, enunciating each syllable more this time. "Stop being a kid, c'mon. And I have class in two hours, so–"

Jongin takes a deep breath and lets his gaze trace the curve of Sehun's face for a moment, memorizing the dip of his eyebags and the jut of his bottom lip. Another blink, and he snaps himself an image of this moment where Sehun's looking at nobody else but him, like no one, nothing at this particular moment matters. And then another, and he's back to reality, pulling back, finger hovering the trackpad.

"I'll see you soon?" Jongin asks, voice barely above a whisper.

Sehun nods, then offers one last smile. "Soon."

Soon, they're waving each other 'goodbye' and Jongin's clicking the 'end call' button. Soon, he's putting his laptop on hibernate and plugging it to the power supply because Skyping takes a lot out of his laptop's battery. It takes a lot of out him, too, he realizes when he sinks back in his bed, back pressed to the cushions as he allows himself to be engulfed by the pillows. It's safer here, where Sehun can't see him, where he can live with the promise of 'Skyping soon' and just that.

He closes his eyes and tells himself, _Focus, Jongin. Focus on your studies and getting into the broadcasting club. Just focus._ He repeats that in his head, again and again, until the voice becomes louder and the words spill from his lips.

"Focus," he tells himself one last time, and closes his eyes. He goes to bed with the thought of passing the test for the broadcasting club and calling speed dial 1 on Skype as soon as he receives the news.

♬ ♬ ♬

Weekends in K-ARTS aren't as eventful as he'd imagined. There are no art shows, no fancy exhibits of any sort. It makes sense, though – it's only the start of the term. Going home on weekends, to Gyeonggi-do, isn't too much of a chore, but he'd rather stay here where there's no one breathing down his neck at every opportunity.

Saturday morning is chaotic, to say the least. Students running to and fro, bumping into each other in the corridors in an attempt to get from one place to another quickly _then_ get out of school. Jongin runs into a few, one of them a girl who even knocks him over and only mumbles an apology but doesn't help him get up. It's a good thing that he hasn't had his cup of hot chocolate yet – the lack of it helps lessen the pain of the fall somehow. Three collisions and a two hours after, Jongin finally learns when to step to his left or his right to avoid bumping into anyone. He learns to duck, too, because some students have magical leaping powers and reflexes.

He'll develop that someday, maybe four weeks into the semester when he starts to feel the grind. He locks his arms behind him once he reaches an empty corridor, then groans in pain when someone speeds past him and bumps into his outstretched arms.

He spends the rest of the morning in the discussion hall in the library, confining himself to just one corner, the one farthest from the doors. He practices spiels from old commercials there – a shampoo commercial, a laundry detergent commercial, and a cookie commercial for the last one – trying to execute each using varying tones and styles of delivery. He succeeds until he breaks into the detergent commercial's campaign jingle and doesn't rouse from laughter after that.

He looks around for an audience before whipping out his phone and pulling up the camera application. He flips the camera around, toggles the video option, then clears his throat. "Okay. This is a test video. Jongin, remember, you're _not_ supposed to accidentally upload this or send this to Sehun." He shifts in his seat when he hears foot steps not too far away, then looks back at the camera once the sound dies down. He drops his voice to a whisper, too. "Today, we're going to talk about… music. The subtle differences between Coldplay and Snow Patrol's music."

_Nobody pits two bands against each other on air,_ says a voice at the back of his mind. He shuns that voice away, shakes his head, then faces the camera. _And… action!_

It's a silly discussion at first – or at least Jongin _feels_ silly and weird for having to record himself for his 'practice broadcast' after Zitao cancelled on him because he has to Skype with his relatives back in China. It's silly for the first ten minutes, where he tries to dig up real facts about the bands, that Ed Sheeran once toured with Snow Patrol and Gary Lightbody, the lead of the band, actually served as Ed's _back up_ in one performance of _Chasing Cars._ He talks briefly on how depressing Coldplay's _Magic_ actually is, and, "Christ Martin, buddy, I'm telling you – you deserve to be happy. And as entitled as this may sound, we deserve to hear happier songs from Coldplay, too." It takes a few more minutes until he falls into a state where he's more comfortable speaking in front of a camera, delivering lines upon lines about each band and sharing his insights on some of his favorite songs from both artists.

_That's not so bad,_ he muses when he watches the video back in his dorms. With a deep breath, he brings out his camera, the one Sehun used to record him for his scholarship application to K-ARTS, and sets it up.

He fixes his hair in front of the mirror before pressing record, but messes it up just a little just before he yells _Action!_ _This is it,_ he thinks, _you've succumbed to desperation and you're recording yourself because you won't make friends after your best friend left you to pursue his dream–_

The red light of the camera glares at him and he summons his best smile. The stretch stings at the corners and there are butterflies in his stomach again, playing Super Mario again or some other game, but whatever. He'll do this. If he can't record himself _in his room,_ without anyone else to see, then how can he even muster the courage to board and go on air so he can be heard by thousands of students on campus?

He clenches his fists, then parts of his lips to speak. "Hello, everyone. I am Kim Kai, and this… is my show. It doesn't have a name yet, but it will, soon. And I'll need _you_ to help me come up with one. Doesn't have to be fancy shmancy. It just has to capture the essence of this show – that is–" He reaches for his DS from a few centimeters away, then brings it close to his face, saying, "Game reviews of long-forgotten gems. Our first stop? Dragon Quest Monsters Joker."

He cocks an eyebrow at the camera and says, "So, are you ready to take the leap? I am if you are!"

He really feels stupid right now with the silence closing in on him, a thick cold wrapping around his throat and making him choke. But the red light is still blinking. "Now, let me give you a brief background on how it all began. I'll take you back to the early 2000's where the story started with the main character jumping _inside a drawer_ to save his sister. Silly? Sure. Exciting? Definitely."

He boots up his DS, then turns back to the camera lens and beams. "Let's have some fun!"

♬ ♬ ♬

He wakes up in the afternoon the following day. In his defense, he went to bed at sunrise just to finish editing his video, do the necessary color corrections, and add the visual effects. It was the sound capture that he spent a lot of time cleaning up – he needs a better microphone, something close to what professionals use. A simple condenser microphone might be good. He can't rely on his camera's sound capturing abilities anymore; good editing skills can only do so much.

He rolls over so that he's lying flat on his stomach and checks his phone. No new messages, just application updates. It's too early in the morning in the U.K. to be expecting any texts from Sehun. It's too late in the day to not be eating anything filling, too, says his stomach. Grudgingly, he pushes himself off his bed and takes a quick shower. He doesn't want to make the same mistake of falling on his ass in his pajamas and almost slipping off of them when someone _accidentally_ steps on the cloth.

The campus is calm, even in the cafeteria where most of the student population congregates at odd hours. Zitao's nowhere to be seen – he probably had lunch already. Soojung isn't someone he'd expect to see in the cafeteria on a weekend, living nearby and all, and he can't remember his other classmates' names. There's the distant memory of a Taemin in his class, but that's it – all other names he recalls are that of professors'. And Joonmyun's. But he knew that even before he met Zitao and Soojung in his first class in K-ARTS.

Only then, he'd been calling Joonmyun '$uho'. Or Youtube user $udope. Both names are embarrassing, thinking about it. Also, in hindsight, he should've asked for Zitao's number already. After sharing too many classes and bugging him for broadcasting practice too many times, there's no reason to not keep in touch with Zitao; it's always nice to have… the closest he can get to a soothing presence.

He orders his usual, then looks over his shoulder, almost expecting someone to walk up to him right in the middle of placing an order. Like Joonmyun freaking Jongin out over food by creeping up on him is part of Joonmyun's schedule. Heaving a sigh, he looks for a place far away from the doors and any the air-conditioning. He takes a seat near the windows for balance – the warm temperature outside and the heat of his ramyun are enough to keep him alive in the coldness of the cafeteria.

He's halfway through watching the video he'd created on his phone by the time someone walks up to him, a shadow at the corner of his eyes. _I was beginning to think I won't see you around,_ he says to himself. He might've even said it, he isn't sure, but the weird twist of Joonmyun's mouth, the way his lips fall open into a tiny 'o' tells him that he might have let those words slip from his lips. He doesn't hold the stare, looks back down on his ramyun and wishes the surface of the soup were more reflective. That way, he won't have to address Joonmyun's gaze directly. He can look through his food and pretend he's studying it, trying to pick out the ingredients.

That way, he won't have to address Joonmyun's light laughter and the grin on his lips before he crouches just a little, then 'knocks' on his table.

"You can sit, hyung, just so you know," Jongin says after a while, then stands from his seat to pull the chair for Joonmyun. Joonmyun chuckles in response, then takes a seat and sits upright, facing forward. He looks as if he's dying to say something, lips pressed together in what might as well be a shit-eating grin, except he isn't baring all of his teeth. It makes Jongin's insides turn. _It's just the hunger, Jongin. You should eat more._ "You don't go home on weekends, hyung?"

Joonmyun lets out a loud exhale and lays an energy bar and a cup of coffee on the table. "I don't have anything to come home to," he says, then hums to fill the silence. He's doing that thing again where he's sort of withdrawing and sort of putting himself out there. Like he's saying, _if there's anything you want to know, Jongin, you just have to ask nicely._ He doesn't, though. Instead, he meets Jongin's gaze. "And you?"

"It's a bit far from uni. Not much of a chore to go back, but _eh._ " What he means to say is, _but if I go back, they might just ask me questions again. And I'm sick of answering questions that I don't want to hear. I can't answer all of their 'why's._ "I can concentrate on getting things done better. When I'm alone."

Joonmyun stops drumming his fingers on the table. Jongin feels his body jerk, but only a little. "Sorry. I didn't mean to–"

"It's okay, hyung. It's not like I need to concentrate on eating or something."

Joonmyun offers a smile. "I promise to leave as soon as you're done. I… just took a quick break from doing my thesis. Thought I'd head out and actually _deal_ with people rather than stay in my cave the whole day and rot in thesis hell."

Jongin bites the inside of his cheek in an attempt to keep himself from laughing, but it's hard. The tickling sensation in his throat is a force too strong that he ends up chuckling at Joonmyun's display of exasperation. Joonmyun furrows his eyebrows for a moment, sucks in his bottom lip just a bit, but soon he's laughing and shaking his head. "I know, it sounds weird. I'm just tired and I _really_ need a break," he explains, then, and works on peeling off the wrapper of his energy bar. "I've been spending the past week just focusing on my thesis. And even the semester before, actually – that was proposal period."

"That sounds tough," Jongin mumbles.

"It isn't. Writing your thesis, at least. What's hard is staying focused and driven to finish on time instead of 'taking things slowly'." He splays his hands on the table, then clenches his fists. "At one point, you'll just… combust."

Jongin nods. It sounds a lot like Sooneung, only more difficult. Just when you think that life has already hit you with the worst possible thing, it kicks you right in the ass and laughs at you in the face, saying, _well here's another one for you, kid._

"I can distract you," Jongin offers. Joonmyun's eyes shoot up. Jongin catches on faster this time, clenches his fists in tandem with his quickening heartbeat. "I mean, maybe there's something that we can do together to make you feel better? More relaxed? Do you…" _Do you want to dig your own grave, Jongin? Possibly._ "Remix stuff? That can be pretty fun."

Joonmyun tilts his head to the side, eyes squinted and crinkling at the corners. His lips are still pressed thinly together, but the tight corners have eased a little, tugging up now. Like he's considering the offer but he's not quite sure yet. Or that maybe he's thinking of the best way to tell Jongin off. Jongin does him a favor, retracts his statement with a wave of the hand. "I mean, it's just a suggestion. I'm not yet _that_ busy and you've been giving me hints on what the qualifying test might be so, y'know, it's only… right for me to help you out in some way? Pay you back?" He scratches the back of his neck, feeling warmth crawl under his skin. His throat clenches around nothing, or every single word threatening to spill from his lips. He gulps down hard. "And well, you _are_ one of the reasons I passed the scholarship application. I did a video DJing thing for the skills test and… yeah."

Joonmyun snorts, the corners of his mouth pulling down but his cheeks tugging up. It's a weird contrast. It almost looks as if he really doesn't know what to do, or that he does – he just hasn't decided how to go about this yet. Joonmyun's response is a shake of the head, and a faint, "Silly kid," under his breath. "I don't want to be a bother. Having lunch with you here?" He raises his coffee and the tiny snack bar. That's hardly lunch for normal people doing their thesis. "This is enough a break. It's refreshing."

Joonmyun scratches the surface of the table, then, and Jongin's tempted to slap Joonmyun's hand because the soft screeching sound is prickling the shell of his ear. It hurts. He sits on his hands, instead, and mumbles, "Hyung, stop that. You're not supposed to do that to school property."

"You have a weird way of displaying concern," Joonmyun says, voice lilting.

"I'm concerned for my _ears._ There's a screeching sound." He winces when Joonmyun does it again, holding his gaze this time. " _That._ It's annoying."

"Am I an annoyance, Jonginnie?" Joonmyun asks, grinning. He does it again – once, twice, thrice, until Jongin can't count anymore and the way _Jonginnie_ had rolled off Joonmyun's tongue ringing in his ears. "Am I, huh?"

_It's not you, hyung. It's just–_ "Stop it, hyung." He narrows his his eyes, then juts out his bottom lip. " _Please._ "

Joonmyun stops, then drops the rest of his fingers to the table. His stare hasn't waned though, and the loud thumping in Jongin's chest hasn't subsided either. It's like they're competing for _something_ , any semblance of victory over the other, but haven't they both won _and_ lost at the same time? The screeching sound is gone, Jongin never said Joonmyun was annoying, they've both given up and given in. There's nothing to triumph over anymore. Still, Joonmyun stays there, head cocked to the side, eyes fixed on nothing but Jongin's own. Jongin can see himself reflected in them, and if he squints then maybe he can see more. He doesn't. Instead, he takes a deep breath, pulls away, and drops his gaze back to his meal.

He frees his hands from his legs and shakes them a little in his sides. They're still cold. He can feel his thundering pulse in his palms, making him shiver.

"Stay a little longer?" Joonmyun says, then turns to take a sip of his coffee. Jongin looks back at his food tray and thinks, _oh,_ there's only one piece of kimchi left. He doesn't say anything, but he does cut the kimchi into three small pieces, pops one slice in his mouth and chews on it as slowly as possible, nodding in Joonmyun's direction.

He can see Joonmyun's smile at the corners of the coffee cup. And his pulse quickens all the more.

♬ ♬ ♬

The first thing that crosses Jongin's mind when he wakes up on Monday morning is, _Shit. Three days until the big test._

The thought leaves his mind just as quickly as it hits him, though, when he walks into his History of Film class. Jinki's making them watch a 70's film today, reminding them every so often to pay close attention to the smallest details in the film. "We won't be having an exam, but I _will_ ask you to submit a one-pager summarizing the film based on certain plot points I'll be giving you later. Remember: be thorough. Be keen. It's the small details that make a difference."

Jinki's words ring in Jongin's ears loud enough that sometimes they drown the dialogue. _Focus,_ he reminds himself, squints hard at the screen in front of them. The male and female leads in the movie have finally met. And to think they're past the halfway mark in the film.

History of Film class ends in a breeze, and it has Jongin groaning in frustration because he _might_ have fallen asleep in certain parts. "Projected on screen are the points I want you to discuss. The last question is important – I want you to be as honest as possible at tell me what's wrong with the film and what can make it better," Jinki says, and Jongin quickly scribbles under his notes, underlined twice, _BETTER MUSICAL SCORING!!!_ The dialogue was a bit stiff and stilted, but he can't be sure – maybe that's how people really spoke during that time. Maybe they really loved using some high level of formal speaking that Jongin only hears in period dramas these days.

He adds a small note near the comment he'd written in all caps, then draws an asterisk on top of it once he's done. _Pretty sure people don't address themselves and others in third person all the time? Dialogue sounds pretty detached,_ it says. He adds a sad face before shutting his notebook closed and slipping it in his file case.

Soojung slips beside him and lays a hand on his shoulder. "So. Three days," she says as they make their way to the cafeteria, then wiggles her eyebrows at her. For all of Soojung's being a great seatmate during class (she doesn't make side comments during discussions) and study partner (she has her earphones plugged on all the time; Jongin doesn't have to think of things to say to fill the silence), she's a big tease. Loves poking fun at Jongin's misery, academic or otherwise. Not that Jongin has a lot of those, but Soojung _does_ make it a point to bring up his obsession about $uho even during lunch. And yes, even in Zitao's presence.

"I shouldn't have stayed with you two. Should've grabbed takeout and camped out outside my next class," Jongin grumbles after swallowing his food.

"FYI, we're stuck with each other the whole day today. Tuesdays and Wednesdays, we rarely meet," Zitao comments. He takes a sip of his tea, then mumbles, "I need something sweet. Hot chocolate?" He turns to Jongin with a smile.

"What? I _ordered_ this. This drink is mine!"

"Come on, the least you could do after _exploiting_ me for your broadcasting test thinggie is buy me a sweet drink!" Zitao tugs at Jongin's shirtsleeve, then says, "Come on, come on, _come on–_ "

Jongin snarls at him but pushes his glass in Zitao's direction, anyway. To Soojung, he says, "Don't say _anything._ "

Soojung shakes her head for a while, then whispers, "Whipped for $uho."

"You're such a great friend," Jongin groans. Title subject to change. Still debatable, yes.

"Aww, thanks. I'm really touched." Soojung draws her hands close to her chest and coos a little. It doesn't suit her; it makes her sound as if she's drowning.

Zitao becomes more receptive to requests on broadcasting practice, though. Between their Introduction to Sound and Semiotics classes, they do a practice radio show where Zitao plays the role of the caller. They're doing a segment on love forecast and advice today. Jongin lost some of his sanity in their previous class, after they were taught how to splice out repetitive parts in a song just by reading the sound waves, so it takes him longer to answer this time. Zitao snaps a finger in front of him – once, twice, thrice, until Zitao has to wave his hands just a few inches shy of his face.

"Hey bud, you still there? I think I lost you somewhere between the Pisces and the Taurus forecasts," Zitao says. His voice cracks when it peaks. Jongin files that tone under 'concern'. " _Hey._ "

"Yeah. My brain's just fried." Jongin rubs his eyes and stretches his arms over his head, then places his hands a few inches behind him. "I'll space out in Semiotics class and just think of love all day." His voice drops one register lower as he says, "Libra: while your judgment when it comes to picking the right date has always been good, today you'll make a mistake because you made a choice to take 9 units straight. No breaks in between. There's no one else to blame but yourself."

"You _do_ know that that'll make you lose your following, right?" Zitao says. "You don't want to tell your listeners off."

"But what if the Libra _did_ make that stupid decision, just like us?"

Zitao snorts. "We didn't make our schedule. The grants office did."

Jongin draws his knees close to this chest and rests his head on them. "Fuck. You're right. He lifts his head for a moment and says, "Sorry, Libra!"

The thing is, he _does_ feel like he's prepared enough for this exam. For all the knows, he didn't have to go through all the trouble just to assure himself that he'll be able to ace this test or pass it, at the very least. It feels… different, though, like he isn't just doing this for himself. That's the problem with him – once someone places pressure on him, places their trust on him, he tortures himself into thinking that whatever ounce of effort he puts into excelling in things won't be enough.

It's a bad habit he's developed over time. He blames no one but himself for it. Maybe experience, as well, but then it's been years since–

"Time for class," Zitao says, poking the crown of Jongin's hair. "C'mon, pick yourself up. I'll buy you ice cream later."

 

_It's not the same. You're not Sehun,_ Jongin wants to say. That's being damn ungrateful and rude, though, so instead he offers Zitao a smile and takes Zitao's offered hand.

Semiotics class is easier on their brains this time around. Maybe it's the initial shock of the subject got to them last week, or just the fatigue brought about by only having 30 minutes of rest between classes. It could have been worse, though. Jongin has read some tales on students in K-ARTS having to run from one room to another because they only have 10 minutes of rest between one major class to another. And of course they can't afford to be late. That's the price you pay for pursuing something you want. It's the same price that Jongin is willing pay just to get into the broadcasting club.

He hasn't even looked at other organizations. The debate society's an option, but he wants to try something new and get out of his comfort zone.

Zitao does end up buying him ice cream after their Semiotics class. They visit an ice cream parlor nearby, just outside the campus. It isn't too far from the game shop that Zitao mentioned the week before and, really, Jongin would've wanted to visit the store, but he's much too drained by academics to even budge. Soojung's words still ring in his ears, too – _So. Three days._ Three more days and he'll be free from worrying about his club membership application. Three more days and he'll know his fate in K-ARTS for the next few months until he gets in an organization, if he doesn't land a spot in the broadcasting club.

"You're a messy eater," Zitao says before he excuses himself to go to the bathroom. He calls out to Jongin one last time, then gestures at his things, mouthing, _if one of those goes missing, I'll pinch your nipples._ Jongin only rolls his eyes in response but keeps his eyes glued to Zitao's things, anyway. That's what friends do – look out for each other and look over each other's stuff. Look at both sides before advising the other to cross the road because _there's no harm in trying, Jongin. C'mon, give it a shot!_

"He's right, you're a messy eater," comes a familiar voice from beside him. Jongin would look up if he could, but the prospect of Zitao screaming at the loss of one of his things keeps him from teasing his gaze from what he's supposed to be guarding over. "Seriously, you eat ice cream like an eight-year-old. Jongin–"

Joonmyun holds him by his chin and tilts up his face, then wipes the chocolate ice cream dripping from a corner of his mouth with his thumb. "There, better," Joonmyun says once he's done, holding Jongin at an arm's length like he's examining his handiwork. He sucks in his thumb between his lips, then, tongue peeking out just a little to lick off the ice cream that had caught on his nail. He's still smiling at Jongin like he's a little kid in the park, though. And Joonmyun's that cute older kid who's crouching in front of Jongin and giving him a balloon just so he'd stop crying.

"Thanks," Jongin mumbles, then shifts in his seat. He moves to his left, making room for Joonmyun, then taps the empty space beside him. "Hyung, sit."

It almost rounds rude, like Jongin's _commanding_ Joonmyun to fill that gap between himself and the edge of the chair with his presence, but Joonmyun keeps a smile plastered on his lips, easy on the corners, almost reaching his eyes. He settles next to Jongin, then, bumps his hip into Jongin's own to make more room for himself, and that's when Jongin realizes that his plan has backfired. The intent is to still the wild thumping in his chest, not make it worse.

_Wrong move, Jongin,_ says a voice at the back of his mind. Jongin resists the urge to groan and licks his ice cream again, careful not to get any at the corners of his lips this time around.

Jongin maneuvers the silence into a conversation about waveforms and Joonmyun's latest song recommendation, mentioning that it's probably great for road trips or long travels. "Not that I'd know. I've… never gone out of Seoul, ever," Jongin says, and Joonmyun cocks an eyebrow at him. "Don't judge! I just… don't get much time to have fun, y'know? It's always been a school-house routine for me ever since. Umma and appa, they… didn't like it whenever I played during weekdays."

"I know how that feels," Joonmyun whispers. Jongin looks up from the tip of his ice cream cone and waits for Joonmyun's next statement, but nothing comes. Instead, he turns to his coffee, uncapping it and letting some of the steam out. His drink is a shade of black so dark that he can see Joonmyun's reflection on it.

"So, are you ready?" Joonmyun says after a while. He pulls away from his coffee, lips coming off with a dull pop. They look so soft and pink and _warm,_ Jongin notes. Maybe it's just the ice cream freezing all the sense in his brain. He should stop asking for ice cream from his friends. "The test is in three days. I'm pretty excited."

Jongin frowns. "Excited to see me suffer?"

Joonmyun chuckles. "Excited to see you in action," he replies. A corner of his lips curls up even more. "If you've learned anything from my videos, at all."

Jongin freezes. The tips of his fingers are cold and he's about 70% sure that it's the work of the ice cream, but it's hard to tell – Joonmyun has the ability to make Jongin stop in his tracks, stop thinking, and lose all logic altogether. Jongin had thought before, when he found out that $uho was studying in K-ARTS and that he was in the broadcasting club, that all the idol magic would fade into dust when he finally meets $uho, but it's still there. Joonmyun isn't in his $uho outfit and really, thank God he isn't, but there's the same brand of magic in the tilt of his chin, in the way he holds his head up high and looks at Jongin with some sort of confidence that Jongin never thought anyone could place in him. It's there in the way he pins Jongin with his stare, steady and strong, in the way he moves even closer and nudges Jongin's arm with his elbow.

It's in the way he makes Jongin's insides turn when they touch and even when he pulls away. Jongin can feel his pulse even stronger in his palms, the backs of his knees and his elbows. Joonmyun isn't even touching him anymore. He's just staring at him, a funny sort of smile on his lips, like he's saying, _Don't tell me you're backing out now._

"I'll do my best," Jongin mumbles. He pops the tip of the cone in his mouth and chews loudly in the hope of drowning the loud thumping in his chest that rings in his ears. It doesn't. "I'll… try to make you proud?"

"Just have fun," Joonmyun says now, like he hadn't been challenging Jongin days ago to not let him down. He reaches out, then, grabbing the hand Jongin had used to hold his ice cream earlier, and gives it a light squeeze. Jongin tenses and his free hand twitches, an involuntary action that might be his brain saying, _Don't do that, hyung, stop doing that–_ but he doesn't say anything. He just stays there, like he's waiting for something else, waiting for Joonmyun to link their fingers together for some weird reason. _No,_ Joonmyun won't do that. What he _can_ possibly do it drop his hand to his side, finish his coffee in silence, then stand from his seat. Ruffle Jongin's hair before leaving because he's done that before, once or twice.

Joonmyun slides his hand up, settling on Jongin's wrist. He rubs slow circles on the jut of Jongin's bone with his thumb. "Hey. Relax. I know you'll do just fine. Probably even better than me."

Jongin pulls his hand away, and for a moment he thinks he sees a flash of _something_ in Joonmyun's eyes then it's gone, replaced by a more relaxed look, a small upward curl of the lip. "Don't make me laugh," is the only thing Jongin says in reply. In a weird rush of confidence, he moves closer to Joonmyun and leans his head on Joonmyun's shoulder. The fit is awkward, puts strain on his hips, but the hitch of Joonmyun's breath is almost worth it. He closes his eyes and stays there for a while, waiting for Joonmyun to jerk him away. Joonmyun doesn't.

♬ ♬ ♬

D-day arrives sooner than Jongin would like. One minute, he's in bed, rolling until the sheets get tangled in his legs; the next minute, he's frowning at his breakfast and Soojung is laughing at him. The gentle pats on the shoulder calm him down a bit, but not enough to ease the knots of tension in his shoulders. He hasn't stopped clenching and unclenching his fists since he's taken a sip of seaweed soup. And he hasn't picked up his spoon ever since.

"Hey, eat. You'll need an alert mind for later. It starts with the stomach," Soojung says. She nudges him in his side, then motions to pick up his spoon. "Seriously, do I have to feed you just so you would eat?"

Jongin frowns at him for a moment, then parts his lips. Soojung jabs at his arm but feeds him some kimbap, nonetheless.

It isn't until an hour after that he finally calms his nerves enough that he can walk down the corridor to the Broadcasting building without thinking of running back to the Film building. He's been through club applications a number of times; _this_ can't be any different, right? He won't screw up more than his lack of sense will permit and he won't make a fool of himself. He won't stumble on his words – Zitao will kill him if he does. He won't put Soojung and Zitao's efforts to waste.

He turns to his side and offers Soojung a small frown. "Do I really have to do this?"

"Do you want to keep your scholarship?"

Jongin narrows his eyes at her. "I hate you."

"Thanks," Soojung replies. She holds Jongin by the shoulders and pushes him forward, closer to the door of the club room. "I hate you more."

The club room is blessedly silent when he arrives. There are some unknown faces inside – can be some people he's passed in the corridor, given that the broadcasting and film tracks share a few common classes. There's a tall guy whose smile makes up at least half of his face, and then two small guys sharing earphones and scribbling notes on a print out of a waveform. One of the small guys stands, then makes his way to Joonmyun's desk at the same time that Joonmyun swivels his seat closer to the table. They bump into each other and the small guy holds his knees for a second, but soon he's making space for himself on Joonmyun's seat as he pins Joonmyun in place, one knee pressed to the edge of Joonmyun's seat.

_Huh,_ is Jongin's first thought; his second, _That's… sweet._

"Oh hey, Jongin!" comes Joonmyun's greeting, but tiny guy still hasn't budged, still has his hands on either side of Joonmyun's chair. Joonmyun manages to give him a wave, though, and then he's fastening his hands on tiny guy's waist and craning his neck to whisper something in tiny guy's ear.

_If the test is to wiggle out of that guy's grasp then Joonmyun-hyung is so dead,_ a part of him says, but he shakes that thought away, pushes it to the back of his mind. He gives Joonmyun a small wave in response. Tiny guy takes a step back after a while, but Jongin doesn't miss the way he rests one hand on Joonmyun's waist and the way Joonmyun's hand lingers more than it should on tiny guy's stomach. Not that there's a standard number of seconds that one's hand can stay on someone else's body part that's been approved by whatever international body – Jongin just… thinks it took longer than it should. Five seconds too long. Not that he's counting.

"You're here early," Joonmyun says, smiling. Tiny guy walks up to him and stops just beside him, then slides a hand around Joonmyun's shoulder. _Oh for Pete's sake–_ "We're supposed to start at 11. It's only quarter 'til the hour."

"The earlier we finish, the sooner we can eat?" Jongin answers. He tries to wear his best smile, but he can feel the stretch at the corners. It means he's wearing his ugly smile. _Fuck._ "I was… hoping we could, uh, have lunch after this." He looks at Joonmyun. "Maybe. Because I want to know what you think about the thing."

" _The thing_ is the result of your test," says tiny guy. Jongin makes a mental note to not kick strangers, especially those who have a say in his admission to the broadcasting club. "So you're the cute kid Joonmyun-hyung was talking about, huh?" Tiny guy gives Jongin a once over, eyes twinkling. _Shit,_ Jongin thinks. He probably should have gelled up his hair, pushed back his bangs. "Not bad."

Joonmyun nudges tiny guy in his side, laughing a little. "Yes, he's very cute. Adorable, even," Joonmyun says. Jongin stops hearing other things after _very cute._ He might be combusting inside already. Joonmyun doesn't seem to be fazed, though, so he's probably still in one piece. "Jongin, this in Byun Baekhyun. He's the vice president of the broadcasting club. Baekhyun, this is Kim Jongin. _Play nice._ "

"Aww hyung, c'mon. I don't bite," Baekhyun replies. His bottom lip is jutted out and Joonmyun only laughs in response, but Jongin doesn't miss the way Joonmyun's eyes flit to Baekhyun's lips before looking back up. Baekhyun turns to Jongin with a grin, then, tugging hard at the corners of his lips, then extends a hand in Jongin's direction. "Pleasure to meet you. Hyung couldn't stop talking about you."

"That's not true," Joonmyun argues.

"Right. Because that would be your thesis," Baekhyun answers. He maintains the smile on his lips, though. "I think this will be interesting." To Soojung, he says, "Oh hey, you're making friends. Isn't that nice?"

"Shut up, oppa," Soojung replies. When Jongin looks over his shoulder, he sees Soojung smiling. It looks deadly. _Ominous._ "So, are you going to test him or not?"

"Are you the coach? Because if you are, then I have to tell this kid to not keep his hopes up."

"He's not a kid," Joonmyun replies. He reaches out to fluff Jongin's hair, then turns to Baekhyun. "If he's a kid then you're a preschooler."

Baekhyun's eyes widen in response as he screams, "That's foul!"

Joonmyun introduces Jongin to the other people in the room after that. Other tiny guy is Do Kyungsoo and is supposedly a year younger than Baekhyun, but they're in the same year and are both music majors. Chanyeol is in the College of Music, as well, but he's specializing in composition rather than music production. "The make my knowledge on sound seem like a joke," Joonmyun says as they walk down the narrow aisle to the booth, and Jongin only laughs. Kyungsoo makes some disgruntled sound in the background that sounds a lot like, _Sound and music are two different things, hyung._

"And here we are," Joonmyun says, voice barely above a whisper. He turns the doorknob and swings the door open, then lets everyone through.

They stay on the side of the booth that's connected to the passageway for the duration of the orientation. Joonmyun defers the task of explaining the exam to Baekhyun, and Baekhyun rolls his eyes and sticks out his tongue at Joonmyun before turning to Jongin. "The test has three parts. The first part is fairly easy – tongue twisters. You just have to deliver three sets of tongue twisters in thirty seconds. Make an error and that's a point against you. Make another error, and you get a five-second deduction for the next test. Make three errors and you're out. That's it. It's the end of your test."

Jongin blinks a few times, then looks at Soojung. Soojung shrugs her shoulders, frowning. Joonmyun holds two thumbs up at him, though, like he's so sure Jongin won't make three misses and get kicked out even before he reaches the second round.

"Okay. Got it," Jongin replies. He takes a deep breath, then asks, "What's the second test?"

"That you will find out once you pass the first," Baekhyun replies. He winks at Jongin, then asks, "So, ready to begin?"

"As in _right now?_ " He isn't expecting to be given enough time to practice the tongue twisters, but still– "Uh, right. Sure. Let's start. Anytime you're ready."

Baekhyun grins, canines peeking. The twinkle in his eyes makes Jongin shiver more than have more hope. He hands Jongin a sheet of paper, then, and Jongin only gets two seconds to peek at the tongue twisters. They look short, but already Jongin can see a few tricky words that he's always had difficult pronouncing. He runs his practice sessions with Zitao in his head, again and again until he can find his voice again and feel his throat become warm. With a deep breath, he turns to Baekhyun and nods, then holds the sheet of paper close to his face. He gives all three tongue twisters a quick glance before returning to the first to start at Baekhyun's signal.

"And… go!"

Jongin passes the first test in a matter of twenty seconds. Not the record he was aiming for – it's well above his expectations, if he were to be honest with himself. _You have to enunciate your words properly without wasting air time,_ he remembers Joonmyun saying a few days back, and it's the same thought that had carried him through the first part of the exam. Joonmyun hasn't spoken yet, hasn't even budged from where he is, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed in front of him. Soojung gives Jongin a thumbs-up, and that prompts Kyungsoo to take a step forward to give Jongin a background on the next part of the exam.

"The second part is all about delivery. Treat this as your standard voice acting, except you have to inject just the right amount of emotions into the lines you're saying because more than anything else, you're selling a product, not an emotion." Kyungsoo adjusts his glasses and Jongin does the same, finding nothing else to do with his trembling fingers. Just beyond Kyungsoo's shoulders, he sees Joonmyun smiling, laughing a little. He fixes his attention back on Kyungsoo when Kyungsoo clears his throat.

"Three spiels, each fifteen seconds long. You're doing voice overs for three different products." Kyungsoo hands him three sheets of paper, and he studies the headings on each sheet before turning to the next. "If you go over the fifteen-second mark, Chanyeol will sound off a buzzer. You'll have to move on to the next spiel, then. You have to complete at least two to progress to the final round."

He gestures for Chanyeol to move closer, then turns back to Jongin. "And to make your life worse, he'll distract you while you deliver your spiel. He's good at that."

Chanyeol frowns at Kyungsoo. To Jongin, he says, "I won't make this easy. I may look nice but I'm tough."

Behind them, Baekhyun snorts. Joonmyun covers his mouth with his hand. His shoulders tremble a little. His eyes are laughing, though. Jongin risks a quick glance before turning his attention back to the papers in his hand.

"Ready?" Kyungsoo asks.

Jongin takes a deep breath, then nods. "Okay, let's get started."

Kyungsoo blows the whistle and Jongin starts reading.

He doesn't run into any trouble until he gets to the middle of a spiel on beauty shampoos. Chanyeol starts dancing in front of him, limbs uncoordinated and the smile on his lips goofy, but his eyes are still fixed on the stopwatch in his hand. Jongin feels a familiar tickling sensation in his throat for a moment, but he tries to flush that away, finishing just as Chanyeol is about to press the buzzer with his other hand. The third spiel is tricky – it requires a bit of singing. Jongin narrows his eyes at the spiel instead of groaning out loud and sings the stupid campaign jingle for the food seasoning brand. From a corner of his eye, he sees Soojung lean closer, chin propped on her hand.

When he ends, he looks up at Joonmyun and smiles. A corner of Joonmyun's mouth tugs up in a smirk as he brings his hands together, clapping.

"You're pretty good," Joonmyun then says, pushing himself away from the wall and taking slow steps towards Jongin. His voice drops a few notches lower and his gaze has turned sharp, discerning, _assessing._ There's still the playful glimmer in his eyes, though, in the way the corners crinkle, and this allows Jongin to breathe a little. It eases the knots in his stomach that makes his insides turn. Joonmyun is silent for a few more seconds, and then he's resting a hand on Jongin's shoulder. He gives Jongin a gentle squeeze. "I'm really, really impressed."

Over his shoulder, Baekhyun, Kyungsoo, and Chanyeol give Jongin a thumbs-up. Baekhyun stands a bit closer to Joonmyun than the others. Or maybe that's just Jongin's shitty vision at work. He hadn't cleaned his glasses today, in a fit of nervousness. "Thanks," he still manages to say, and bows a little. "I'm… glad I met your expectations."

"There's just one last test," Joonmyun rushes. "And that one, you'll be doing with me."

Jongin furrows his eyebrows. "Hyung, what do you–"

Joonmyun takes a deep breath and looks up at Jongin. "You'll be co-hosting a show with me today, here in the booth. It's just a pretend show, but it will still be recorded. Treat it as you would any radio show on air – we'll be taking song requests and calls, but nothing is rehearsed."

_Holy shit,_ Jongin thinks. _I'm actually going on air with Joonmyun-hyung._ Granted, it isn't live, but how many people get the chance to board with their idols and get the chance to impress them from up close? How many people get to share the stage with $uho _and_ live to tell the tale? Exactly how many people get the chance to influence people with their views in music and in life?

_You're a lucky man, Jongin,_ he tells himself. He emphasizes 'lucky'. Tells himself, _Don't you dare screw this up._

"Sounds exciting," Jongin replies. Joonmyun cocks an eyebrow at him, lips falling open into small 'o'. "It's an honor to share the booth with you, hyung."

Joonmyun blinks at him for a moment. a light flush creeping to his cheeks, and then he's back, all smiles and bright eyes. "Then let's get started," Joonmyun replies, then. He drops his hand to his side, letting the cold pads of his fingers trace a line down Jongin's arm. Jongin shivers.

If the control side of the booth was already void of any noise, the recording side sounds even more quiet. Nothing, save for the rustling of their clothes whenever they shift in their positions, breaks the silence in this side of the room. Jongin hasn't really been in a sound booth before, with the intent of recording a show or any piece of music, but he has seen these things in Joonmyun's videos before, has seen them in Wikipedia and in pictures, even in movies. It still feels different, though, when he slips the headphones on and all the white noise and the low thrumming of the light in the background fades into silence. It feels surreal. It feels thrilling. His fingers grow cold and his heart thumps so hard and fast in his chest that he fears it might jump off his body.

Joonmyun's fingers feel cold against his own skin when Joonmyun reaches for his hand from under the table. "You'll do fine," Joonmyun whispers. He turns to Chanyeol on the other side of the booth and raises a hand, then flashes a thumbs-up. "Relax. Just enjoy."

Familiar music comes in, and Jongin recognizes it as the opening music for $uho's videos. He turns to Joonmyun with wide eyes, and Joonmyun holds his stare. There's a bright smile on his lips that says more than it should, so Jongin doesn't ask anything, doesn't say anything. He just focuses on their intertwined hands under the table. The music hits the part that Jongin knows will go into a volume drop, so he takes a deep breath and turns to face front, leaning closer to the microphone in front of him.

Joonmyun drops his hands to his side and pulls his own microphone closer, then adjusts the pop filter. He coughs away from the microphone, then comes back with a different look on his face – something more self-assured, more confident. More of a combination of $uho's confidence and Joonmyun's charm. A little less of the guy who had wiped the stray ice cream off of Jongin's lips and licked it off his own thumb.

The volume drops even lower and Joonmyun closes his eyes. He moves closer to the mic, then parts his lips, preparing to speak.

"Good morning, Korea National University of Arts! It's a wonderful day outside, perfect for some fun and action, but what are you guys doing?"

Jongin chuckles and speaks into his microphone. "Having their own brand of fun in their classrooms, nose-deep into their books," he replies. Joonmyun's lips twist into a small smile and he nods at Jongin, urging him to go on. "But in another lifetime, I bet you're dying to get out of those rooms, out of those _books_ , and raring to take a plunge into something more exciting. Can I get a hell, yeah?"

On the other side of the glass, Chanyeol mouths, _what the hell is that supposed to be?_ He pulls up a sound clip, nonetheless, of a crowd saying the exact same thing.

"But the truth is, we're all nice little students of this university. Daddy's little girls and boys, obedient as always," Joonmyun continues, picking up from where Jongin has left off. "So let _us_ take you to wherever you want to be, to a far-away place where there's nothing to worry about but what fun activity to do next. This is DJ $uho–"

Joonmyun turns to look at Jongin. Not missing a beat, Jongin says, "And this is DJ Kai–"

Joonmyun points at Jongin while he delivers his next spiel as if saying, _ball's in your court now._ "And we're here to take you on an express trip to the land of fun," Joonmyun says, and Jongin uses the time it takes Joonmyun to finish his lines to run through a roster of songs in his mind. _Fun, fun. None of the depressing shit you listen to, Jongin. Think of early dismissal and surprise holidays and breaks and–_

"First up, we have a fresh and upbeat track from Walk the Moon." He scribbles a note as he delivers this, then passes the piece of paper to Joonmyun. He catches Joonmyun's soft laughter inches away, catches the crazy smile on his lips and the way he shakes his head like he means to say, _Really now, Jongin, are you really making them listen to that track? An obscure song from an obscure band? This is only for music enthusiasts–_ But he doesn't care. If there's anything that he's learned from watching $uho's videos, from listening to $uho's recommendations, it's this – any good song, no matter how obscure, will always be a great hit and a great opener. So he takes a deep breath, holds Joonmyun's gaze as he moves closer to the microphone to deliver his next lines.

"Say no more – just relax, get lost in the beats, and listen to this track. This is _Shut Up and Dance_ from their latest single of the same title."

Joonmyun presses the back of his hands to his lips, still grinning. His shoulders are shaking. Jongin takes it as a sign to go on.

"You are listening to 106.1 K-ARTS FM, the hottest university station in Seoul."


	2. Chapter 2

"Cheers!"

Jongin clinks his glass of water with the rest of the group. The plan was to grab a few drinks outside, in a small drinking place just a few blocks away from the university, but Baekhyun, Kyungsoo, and Chanyeol still have classes in two hours. _They have evening classes,_ Jongin recalled Joonmyun saying a few days back, so he'd agreed without question. Twenty minutes after, here they are, in the cafeteria, snacking on tteokbokki and mulmandu while toasting using glasses of water.

Baekhyun nudges Soojung in her side, saying, "Oh _come on!_ Don't be a killjoy!" Soojung sticks out her tongue but gives in after a while, then jabs Baekhyun lightly on the arm. Kyungsoo chuckles, but doesn't say anything, instead preferring to sink his teeth in tteokbokki. Chanyeol follows suit then engages Soojung in a conversation while chewing. It's gross, Jongin thinks, but Chanyeol has this uncanny ability of making Soojung comfortable enough to talk to him even with some of the gochujang catching on the corners of his mouth.

"Oppa, you look awful," Soojung mumbles, then reaches over to help Chanyeol wipe the sauce off his lips with tissue. Kyungsoo rolls his eyes and bumps his hips into Baekhyun's, saying, "Move. I can't stand these two. They make me sick."

"Everything makes you sick," Baekhyun retorts. Kyungsoo shrugs, then goes back to eating. They fall into a conversation on sound waves after a while. That weans Joonmyun off the banter of the two and makes him turn to face Jongin.

"So you're part of the club now, huh?" Joonmyun says, voice almost dropping to a whisper as he ends. He shakes his head a little then laughs, like he can't believe that Jongin actually passed the exam. Jongin can't say he's not surprised, either, considering his track record with enunciating words properly, but he can't say he's not… even the slightest bit affronted. _I trusted that you trusted me!_ he wants to tell Joonmyun, wants to grab Joonmyun by the shoulders and shake him, wants to whisper in his ear, _but hyung, how was it? Did I make you proud?_ But he doesn't. Instead, he waits with bated breath and holds everything in until Joonmyun parts his lips to speak again.

"Okay, before anything else, let me clear this up – I had faith in you and I was positive that you were going to make it through, but _man…._ " He narrows his eyes at Jongin, looks at him with a careful, scrutinizing gaze. Jongin feels so small all of a sudden, feels as if he should've worn something more formal. A suit, maybe. Or he could've at least fixed his hair instead of appearing at the doorstep of the club room with his hair unstyled. "Nearly perfect enunciation. Good enough emotions for the spiels. I felt compelled to buy the shampoo, by the way." Joonmyun chuckles. "And the opening song for the program!"

"I love Walk the Moon," Jongin mumbles. Joonmyun looks at him with furrowed eyebrows. He repeats his statement, clearer this time. "I said, I love Walk the Moon. Been following them since… the day you posted that _Anna Sun_ recommendation. I think their songs are fun?"

Joonmyun nods. "Ah, yes. It's a… nice break from the sad songs most artists sing nowadays. Or the pop songs. Ah…" He shakes his head. "I almost got sad when I heard Mraz doing something that sounded a lot like Train. And then he released his new album and I was blown away. Everything sounded great. He sounded like himself again."

Jongin laughs a little. "The same old Mraz that we fell in love with."

"Been a fan since he released _Sleep All Day,_ " Joonmyun whispers. He almost sounds wistful. It's not as if he has all the lilts of Joonmyun's voice memorized by now that he can interpret each and every one of them, then attribute one to a particular emotion. That he will still need to practice on.

Joonmyun pops a piece of tteok between his lips, then turns to look at Jongin. "Do you… know Alex Vargas?"

Jongin knows this – this is how Joonmyun begins most of his weekly recommendations. He'd pose a question, and then give an introduction about the singer. Describe their style, try to find an artist with a similar tone or timbre, then recommend that artist to his viewers as well. And then he'll start playing the song, and at the end of the video he'll have a link to the artist's latest single. A promise of seeing him again, this time with a new recommendation. Fade to black. The end.

So he says, "He sounds familiar," not, _I might have listened to a few of his songs already._

Joonmyun's eyes glimmer with a light Jongin hasn't seen before. The corners of his mouth tug up into a wide grin, a smile that reaches the corners of his lips. He drums his fingers on the table then shifts in his seat, knees bumping into Jongin's. A familiar sizzle of heat rolls down Jongin's stomach, making his insides turn, and he takes a deep breath in an attempt to still his heartbeat steadily growing faster in his chest. But to no avail – Joonmyun hasn't stopped tapping a rhythm on the surface, and Jongin hasn't looked away from Joonmyun's eyes, the bridge of his nose, the dip of his lips.

"He used to be part of a band named Vagabond," Joonmyun begins. He licks his lips and Jongin follows the motion with his eyes. "But he decided to disband the group in 2010 to go with songs that are more his style. Something less–"

"Pop-ish. Something rawer," Jongin continues. He gulps hard, bites too hard on his lower lip. He winces. "Sorry. It's… a classic story of artists, isn't it?"

Joonmyun doesn't seem to buy his excuse, but he continues, anyway. He tells Jongin about Vargas collaborating with a group to create trance music, talks about Vargas' first album as a solo singer and how it topped the charts on the day of its release. He talks about how Vargas' songs touch the soul and how he sounds like Matt Wertz and Jon McLaughlin without the pop.

"You knew all that, didn't you?" Joonmyun says just before he ends. Jongin shakes his head, turns to the table to stuff his mouth with tteokbokki to find none. "You could've just said so. I wouldn't mind."

"You sounded so into it, though," Jongin mumbles. He worries his bottom lip some more, then meets Joonmyun's eyes through the slits between the hair of his bangs. "Sorry?"

Joonmyun shakes his head then reaches up, pinching Jongin's cheeks without preamble. "Silly kid," he says, and then Baekhyun's grabbing his attention, complaining about Kyungsoo being extra violent and _extra everything. Hyung, help me!_ So Joonmyun does. He gives Kyungsoo a stern look and says, "Behave," and Kyungsoo sinks back in his seat. Kyungsoo elbows Baekhyun in his side, though, in a last ditch effort to contain himself.

Jongin tells his heart that, too – to behave, stay still, to not jump out of his chest. He succeeds for a while, until Joonmyun transfers the melody he's tapping his fingers to to Jongin's thigh, the cold pads of his fingers pricking Jongin's skin.

Jongin takes a deep breath. He watches the slow, torturous tapping of Joonmyun's fingers on his skin and thinks, there's no escaping this. Not not, not ever.

It's not as if he'd ever wanted to escape, in the first place.

♬ ♬ ♬

Officially being part of the broadcasting club means having to render five hours of residency a week. It's not such a big requirement – all Jongin needs to do is to stay at the club room for an hour today and he'd have already completed the five-hour minimum. He doesn't even have a set number of tasks in order for his stay in the club room to be counted towards his rendered hours. He just has to sit there and stare at the walls or the carpeted floors. He can even do his homework there and Joonmyun won't even call him out on it.

On his first day, though, he finds himself sitting opposite Joonmyun, sifting through his readings for his cinematography class.

"Can I really do this here, hyung?" Jongin asks, fumbling with the edges of the papers. Joonmyun looks up from his doing and addresses Jongin with a cock of an eyebrow, his bottom lip jutted out. He's been reading and scribbling notes and then reading again for the past thirty minutes, not even turning to Jongin to utter a word. From time to time, Jongin catches his watching Jongin through the slits of his bangs, but that's about it. No conversations, no low humming, Nothing but the faint sound of instrumentals of Coldplay songs playing in the background to break the silence.

"Well, there's nothing to do right now. Best to get your homework done, instead, yeah?" Joonmyun says, and then he's back to studying.

Jongin doesn't take it against him. He _is_ doing his thesis, after all, whatever it is. All Jongin knows right now is that involves a lot of side-by-side comparisons of branded content. He'd caught Joonmyun taking out two sheets of paper, each a print out of a print material for just one brand. One of them looked like it was made years ago, what with the browns at the corners and the washed out look. The other looked brand new, or at least like it was made only a few years ago. Everything else is a blur. He'd ask Joonmyun if he had enough courage to, but Joonmyun isn't talking about it for a reason. Whatever it is is still beyond Jongin. If Joonmyun needs then maybe, just maybe, he'll ask for it. He'll ask Jongin to make things lighter for him.

Jongin glances at his wrist watch, then turns back to his readings. He risks one last glance at Joonmyun before shunning all distractions away and lets the soft sound of Coldplay songs make the flow of his readings easier to digest.

Four in the afternoon is an ungodly hour to be studying alone, to be honest, so Jongin doesn't find it a surprise when he wakes up to Joonmyun poking his cheek, Joonmyun's index finger and thumb pressed together like he's planning to pinch Jongin if he doesn't rouse from his sleep soon. "Been trying to wake you up for the past ten minutes but you looked so tired so…" Joonmyun laughs a little. "Yeah. I… hope you're feeling refreshed now?"

Joonmyun's tone is too light, too soft that it tickles Jongin's insides and makes him want to giggle. He doesn't. He's much too sleepy for that. Instead, he tries to mumble, "Mm I'm okay now, hyung. Thanks," and prays to God that Joonmyun understands. If there's anyone in this world who understands his sleepy talking other than his mother, it's Sehun.

 _Sehun._ He feels for his phone in his pockets and sits up straight again. He wipes the drool at the corner of his lips with his shirt sleeve then frowns when he realizes that Joonmyun still watching. The once small smile on Joonmyun's lips grows wider, like what Jongin has just isn't gross. _It is._ If Jongin saw himself doing that then he'd be grossed out, for sure. Joonmyun is weird; Jongin is even weirder for liking Joonmyun.

He presses the 'home' key of his phone and finds neither a text nor any sign of life from Sehun. A part of him feels strange, still unaccustomed to Sehun's new brand of silence; a part of him is actually expecting it. It's only a matter of time until distance put a few limitations to their friendship. This is just the beginning, and Jongin should ease himself into the concept of not having Sehun around anymore. He needs to get used to it faster; time won't slow down for him.

He stuffs his phone back in his pocket, then turns to look up at Joonmyun again. "You okay? You looked… pretty upset or something," Joonmyun asks.

Jongin shrugs. When he feels the tight knots in his throat loosen, he says, "It's okay. Was just checking the time."

Joonmyun laughs a little. "We have a wall clock, Jonginnie."

 _Jonginnie–_ There's a lilt in Joonmyun's voice, somewhere between the soft 'ng' and the roll of the vowels off his tongue. It almost makes Jongin's name sound like a song. Jongin doesn't let that distract him, keeps up the act and laughs a little for effect. "Sorry. Still sleepy. I'm… not making sense–"

Joonmyun reaches over, then threads his fingers in Jongin's hair. For a moment, Jongin tries to remember if he'd put gel in his hair, then recalls that he hadn't. He's never been more grateful of his laziness. "You want to take a break? It's… past your residency time, after all. You've already rendered an entire hour today. You can leave if you have to sleep in your dorm or something."

Jongin groans. "You want me to leave, hyung?"

"No, I meant–" Joonmyun lets out a loud exhale, then shuts his book. He lets the pen that was once in his side drop beside the book. "Okay, come on, let me take you to your room–"

 _But I still want to be with you,_ Jongin almost says, but the smallest bit of sense bites his brain and makes him swallow those words. Instead, he says, "It's okay, hyung. I can manage."

"I insist," Joonmyun says. He stands from his seat, tucks his book under his arm, then walks over to where Jongin is. "Up, up! Let hyung take you to your room–"

Jongin gives in eventually, leaning into the warmth of Joonmyun's body pressed to his side.

They don't quite make it to Jongin's room, but they do make it to the cafeteria. By then, Jongin is awake enough to lean back into his own space and out of Joonmyun's own. "Sorry about that," he tells Joonmyun later, once they've settled down on a seat, and offers to buy Joonmyun food. "Seriously, hyung, that was embarrassing. You didn't have to… drag me all the way to my room! You've just left me there–"

"And let someone else find you still asleep?" Joonmyun shakes his head. "Nope. Not gonna let that happened. _But_ I won't say no to free food only because my knees hurt a bit already. You're… really tall."

Jongin laughs a little. "I apologize in behalf of my limbs," he teases. Joonmyun juts out his bottom lip at Jongin and really, if he's aiming for a look of frustration, he's not successful. "Anything you want, hyung, just tell me."

Joonmyun leans back, eyes still fixed on Jongin's own. "Anything?" he asks, like he means to ask for something incredulous. The whole menu? Everything that the cafeteria has to offer? Something from outside the campus? Jongin should've been more specific. He'd blame lethargy but he can't use that same excuse, not when he has enough sense already to attempt tearing his gaze from Joonmyun. He has some trouble committing to it, peeking at Joonmyun from the corners of his eyes.

He has a bit of difficulty breathing, as well. It's becoming harder with the slow-forming smile on Joonmyun's lips blooming into a grin now.

"Really? Anything?" Joonmyun repeats.

Jongin pulls out his wallet from his back pocket and counts his money. He has enough to buy the two of them at least three rounds of bibimbap. So yes, anything. He's getting his stipend next week, after all, and he's saved up at least half of the allowance the school had given him. "As long as it's on campus, then yes."

Joonmyun parts his lips to speak, shuts them closed, then parts them again. He wets his lips a little, then answers, "Coffee. Just coffee is fine."

"Wow. You must have coffee running through your veins or something," he mumbles. He excuses himself to get their orders and Joonmyun finally tears his eyes from Jongin, breaking the spell.

The line in the cafeteria isn't long, but it still takes him a few good minutes to get to the cashier and place their orders. He keeps his mind busy until then, runs through a schedule in his mind for the following week. He risks a glance at Joonmyun, meaning to check if he's bored out of his wits waiting for 'his freshman friend' or if he's gone back inside his academic cave, but he isn't. Instead, Joonmyun is looking at him, eyebrows furrowed and lips pursed, with the same amount of attention he puts into studying his material. Jongin knows, because he spent the earlier part of his study session watching Joonmyun from the corners of his eyes. And that's how he caught Joonmyun sneaking glances at him, as well.

Then the corners of Joonmyun's lips curl up into a peculiar smile. Jongin looks back in front of him and fumbles with the bills in his wallet. When he returns to their table, Joonmyun looks up at him with the same look in his features and a question on the curl of the lip.

"Americano?" Joonmyun asks.

Jongin nods, echoing, "Americano."

They fall into a comfortable silence after that, with Joonmyun swaying his head to some beat Jongin can't hear. They don't talk about what happened earlier, or even the Alex Vargas incident the day before, but Joonmyun does ask Jongin to tell him about his first week in university, his favorite subject so far, "Is Jonghyun-sonsaengnim a good professor?" Jongin nods, then broaches the subject of cinematography and indulges Joonmyun in his troubles so small that probably make him look like some kid wanting to appease his idol. And maybe he's exactly that.

At least Joonmyun's smiling at him, the tension that was once in his shoulders now gone as the throws his head back in a fit of laughter. This look suits Joonmyun better.

♬ ♬ ♬

He doesn't get to talk to Sehun until the weekend. "Been super busy as usual. 28 units, man. I don't even know how I survived the first week," Sehun grumbles. His hair is a mess and Jongin would reach out to fluff it _like old times_ , except there's the barrier of a screen between them. _Get used to this, kid,_ a voice at the back of his mind says, but who is he kidding? He's never been good at listening to his own voice of reason. Sehun's, though, he's never had difficulty listening to.

"Survived it without being reduced to a sobbing mess, even," Jongin teases. Sehun may try to deny it but he knows Sehun's the worst when it comes to dealing with separation. The first time they were apart, when the Oh family went overseas for a trip, his mother emailed Jongin's mother and sent her a picture of a sobbing Sehun. Captioned it 'Sehunnie misses Jonginnie so much, awww!'. Jongin still has a copy of that in his inbox. From time to time, he'd glance at it just for kicks; often, he'd stare at it for a few good minutes and think, what changed?

Maybe he should delete that email from his inbox. He should.

"Congrats on passing the test, by the way. Bet you made your idol proud," Sehun mentions, then, and Jongin's ears perk up at the mention of 'idol'. A corner of Sehun's lips is curled up and he's narrowing his eyes in a way that makes him look more predatory than teasing. _Ugly,_ Jongin tells himself, but his insides still turn a little. Like a half lurch, but a lurch nonetheless. _Stop it, Jongin!_ "How did he react when he found out that you know about the $uho thing, by the way?"

Jongin snorts. Joonmyun hadn't reacted that much. Nothing worth noting, really, except– "He said not to call him that name in front of other people."

Sehun furrows his eyebrows. "But… other people know, right? I mean–" Sehun yawns and stretches his arms over his head. His shirt rides up just a little. Jongin makes a mental note to remind Sehun to buy new shirts. "Doesn't your girlfriend know that he's $uho? And then your other guy friend? And $uho's other broadcasting homies?"

"Maybe it's one of those open secrets that people don't talk about," Jongin reasons out. Like him and Sehun being the best of friends and only just. Like Jongin _maybe_ being too fond of Sehun and not of his girlfriend who didn't approve of having a long distance relationship with him. _I'm okay with long distance relationships,_ Jongin remembers himself thinking back then. Nothing much has changed. "And she is _not_ my girlfriend."

Sehun cocks an eyebrow at him. "You hang out with her all the time and you say she's really pretty. C'mon, you probably like her already! You just don't know that you do!"

"Sehun–"

"C'mon, dude, it's just me." Sehun wiggles his eyebrows at Jongin and Jongin feels a pinch in his chest, somewhere to the left. The sting spreads across the expanse of skin and numbs him for a moment. Sehun grins at him, big and bright, and then the numbness is replaced by a dull ache. He looks so sure of himself, like he knows Jongin is just kidding or he _knows_ that somewhere deep in Jongin's heart, he does acknowledge that he has feelings for the girl. He just doesn't want to say it out loud.

The last thing Jongin wants to do is to break Sehun's heart this way – it's not as if there's any other way that he can. Nonetheless, he says, "I don't like her. She's not my girlfriend. I don't like _her._ "

Sehun nods in thought, slow and deliberate, then parts his lips a little. "What about… that other friend of yours? The shy guy?"

 _Finally,_ Jongin thinks. _Finally, you're beginning to think._

He has every reason to like Zitao. Zitao is nice. A bit whiny, but then he's just looking for a touch of home in everything so Jongin can live with that. Zitao isn't such a bad study partner, either, though he'd much prefer Zitao to keep a dictionary beside him at all times. Zitao indulges him in his weird ideas, too, and Zitao hadn't judged him when he said that he's been following $uho's online career for years already. Zitao doesn't think twice about buying him ice cream, either. So really, there's no reason to not like Zitao. Maybe with a little push, he _could_ develop feelings for him.

The thing is, Zitao isn't Sehun. He doesn't give Jongin a much needed kick in the ass when his ideas turn from bad to ridiculous. Zitao doesn't hold off on the ice cream even when Jongin's showing signs of coughing already. Zitao doesn't know that an alternative to ice cream is banana uyuu. Copious amounts of tteokbokki, as well.

Zitao isn't Joonmyun, either. Not that he _likes_ Joonmyun that way. So maybe he's wondered how Joonmyun's lips taste or how they would feel moving against his own, but all his fantasies involving Joonmyun always end with Joonmyun giving him a funny look and saying, _Focus, Jongin, don't think of anything else._ It's as if his subconscious is setting limits to this whole fantasy-building thing, telling him that, _you can't crush on your idol, your life peg. It's like crushing on yourself._

"Shy guy's name is Zitao. And nope, I don't… like him either." Jongin gulps hard, bites on a hang nail and scowls when he tugs at harder than he should. "I just like studying right now. I'm loving cinematography class. It's great!"

"It doesn't give you a boner, though."

Jongin frowns. "Not everything has to give me a boner." Some things just have to give him a heartache. Songs do that for him. It doesn't have to be a person all the time. It _can_ not be caused just by Sehun. "What if I've just… decided to focus on studying for now? What if I'm finally taking life seriously? What if I've decided to commit myself to studying my whole life?"

Sehun narrows his eyes at Jongin one more time, tilting his head to the side. Jongin blames the video quality and the distance but he knows this look – he's supposed to know this look. But there's a thin veil blurring the image somehow. He moves closer to the screen, trying to see clearer, but to no avail. This isn't a song he knows inside and out.

"Nah, kid. I'm sure you're shitting me."

Jongin cocks an eyebrow at him. "You. You! You're the absolute worst! I'm ending this friendship!" He points an accusing finger at the screen. "I hate you!"

Sehun's shoulders shake a little, then he's erupting into a peal of laughter. This tune Jongin knows so well, has found himself waking up to and sleeping to at odd hours of the day. This is the same brand of laughter that has gotten him out of nasty ruts and pulled him out of fits of depression over bad exam results (a score a little below his target, at least). This is Sehun, the same boy he has grown up with, the same boy he fell in love with the moment Sehun extended a hand in his direction and pulled him out of being shoved face-first into a sandpit. This is _his_ Sehun, the person who knows him more than he knows himself. His brother, his best friend, and only just.

Sehun hasn't come down from his high yet, but isn't wheezing anymore. There's still laughter bubbling on his lips, though, so Jongin doesn't wipe off the pout on his lips just yet. "And I love you, too," Sehun whispers, voice still breathy, and Jongin feels his muscles tense, feels the soft corners of his mouth tighten, feels his lips quiver.

He keeps lips pressed together and says nothing in reply, keeps shaking his head in an effort to not let Sehun see the crazy smile on his lips.

 _No, you don't,_ a small voice in Jongin's head says. _But I do._

♬ ♬ ♬

With nothing to do on a weekend, he decides to spend time in the club room instead of in the library. The silence in there always helps him concentrate, but sometimes the low thrumming of the air-conditioning lulls him to sleep more that it sets his brain cells at ease. That, and the library's closed on Sundays. Bless the administration, really. The white noise in the club room keeps him awake enough for at least an hour, though, so he takes the leap and prepares his things, bringing his reading material for three subjects. He shoots Zitao a text, too, saying, _wanna grab a snack at 4? or ice cream yeees? :D_ He isn't the best at keeping in touch, but he tries hard. He spent his first two academic years alone; he wouldn't want to go back to those days ever again.

 _YES then we can go to the game shop yeees? :D_ Zitao replies.

Jongin laughs a little then types up a reply before slipping his phone back in his pocket. _yeah yeah sounds like a plan!_

He walks down the corridors of the Film building and crosses the bridge to the Broadcasting building. It takes no more than a swipe of the ID to gain access to the club room. The lock comes off with a few clicks then he swings the door forward, anticipating nothing but emptiness to greet him. _Wrong again, Jongin. Your prediction skills are shit,_ he tells himself when he spots a familiar figure sitting behind a desk. He summons his best smile, then, and texts Zitao, _dyou mind if a friend of mine tags along?_

"Oh hey," comes Joonmyun's greeting, coupled with sleepy eyes. Joonmyun's smile is soft at the corners, but he looks as if he hasn't even had any rest the night before. Possible, Jongin thinks to himself – thesis-writing creates monsters out of people, so articles say. Joonmyun just happens to be an interesting and cute monster.

Jongin takes a few steps inside and shuts the door closed behind him. He's careful not to make his footsteps heavy so as to not disrupt Joonmyun's peace even more. Had he known Joonmyun would stay here, he'd have resorted to locking himself up in his room and pulled up a playlist with upbeat songs that will keep him awake for at least two hours. Joonmyun doesn't seem to be too bothered, though, gesturing for him to come closer and pointing at the seat opposite his. "Good timing. I was beginning to fall asleep. I've been here since 9 a.m.."

" _Why,_ " is the only thing Jongin manages to say in response. Who even starts studying on a weekend at nine in the morning? Joonmyun looks like he hasn't eaten anything either, and it's close to one in the afternoon already. "Hyung, did you even grab breakfast?" he asks, then, and Joonmyun uses weak laughter as a response. Joonmyun rubs his eyes, too, which Jongin interprets as Joonmyun not even having coffee yet. "How are you still alive?"

"Magic!" He makes elaborate gestures with his arms, then, terribly uncoordinated, and knocks over a few things on his desk. Nothing that will ruin the paper he's scribbling notes on or can hurt his laptop. He fusses with the pens and places them back in the cup, then turns to Jongin with an apologetic look. "Sorry, I'm just– The ideas hit me the moment I got up so I thought, why not start working at once? Just… not in bed, because I always end up falling asleep when I work in bed–"

Jongin grabs Joonmyun by the wrist when he almost hits something else on the left side of his desk. "Hyung," he says, voice dropping a few notches lower. "I'm going to take you to the cafeteria and you are going to eat."

"But–" Joonmyun looks up at him, then at his laptop. "But my paper, the ideas–"

Jongin walks over to the other side of the desk and peeks at what's displayed on Joonmyun's screen. Everything makes sense until the last few lines that are laced with typographical errors and keysmashes. "Save the doc and then you can work on that when we get back," he replies. He shakes his head when another 'but' escapes Joonmyun's lips. _Cute,_ he'd say on a normal day, but Joonmyun looks like a zombie right now. And zombies aren't supposed to be cute. Yet. "Hyung, please?"

Joonmyun takes a deep breath, then turns back to his laptop to press a few keys. After a while, he pulls the screen on his laptop down and unplugs the charger. "Can I at least take my laptop in my? In case I get good ideas?"

Jongin takes a deep breath. _You'll go through the same thing someday, Jongin. You have to understand what he's going through._ "Fine, fine. Come on, let's go."

Joonmyun manages to summon a chuckle in response. He doesn't sound sleepy at all, still sounds like his usual self even while fashioning his look. There _must_ be some magic involved here.

It takes them longer than the usual to get to the cafeteria. Jongin offers to carry Joonmyun's laptop, and Joonmyun puts up a fight until he almost trips over his own feet in his state of lethargy. "I'm better than this on most days, I swear," Joonmyun says, heaving a sigh as they turn around a block and walk inside the cafeteria. "It's just… I thought I could function with only two hours of sleep–"

Jongin shoots him a stern glance and says, " _Hyung._ "

"When you reach this point in your academic life when your thesis-writing muse bugs you at obscene hours, you'll understand," Joonmyun argues. He reaches for Jongin's hand and gives it a gentle squeeze, then hands him a couple of won bills. "Americano. The tallest they have. You can buy whatever else you want with the change – I just need my coffee."

What Joonmyun needs right now, Jongin muses, is good food. Also, enough sleep so he can type his ideas on his laptop without peppering his document with typos. Joonmyun's eyes are sharp, though, his gaze focused and unrelenting. The soft curves of his planes are all hard edges now, save for the small upward tug of the lip. Jongin resists the urge to reach over and ease the light furrow of Joonmyun's eyebrow, pull up the corners of his mouth, maybe run a thumb along the gentle swell of Joonmyun's bottom lip. He resists the urge to just take Joonmyun in his arms and whisper in his ear until Joonmyun gets it, _Shut up, hyung. Just shut up and stop thinking and get some rest._

Joonmyun takes a deep breath and lets his shoulders fall forward. "Whatever you wish," he says, waving a hand in the air. Joonmyun finds the energy to jab him in the arm, but it doesn't sting. If anything, it feels more like Joonmyun pawing at his skin, seeking attention.

"Eat for me!" Joonmyun calls out after him.

He shakes his head and whispers, "Don't make me feed you. I swear to God, don't make me feed you."

Jongin gets a close encounter with Joonmyun's stubbornness when Joonmyun refuses to touch his food, save for the seaweed soup. "I am _not_ going to eat all of that, hyung," Jongin reasons out, shaking his head even as Joonmyun pushes the bibimbap in his direction. He understands not feeling well enough to eat but if Joonmyun really wants to get things done and maybe even stay up until the following morning, he'll have to eat something. _This dish,_ ideally, but Jongin will be glad if Joonmyun so much as considers touching the egg. "Come on, hyung, please? I'll hold your laptop hostage if you don't eat."

Joonmyun groans for a moment, then lets his hand slip from the cover of his laptop. "That's foul," he mumbles, then says, "If I eat, will you get off my case and let me work in peace?"

Jongin leans back a little and lays his chopsticks on an empty dish. Joonmyun's features have softened considerably, but there's still the hard-edged resolution in his voice, packing just enough force to push Jongin away if Joonmyun wanted to. Jongin presses his lips together, his front teeth almost digging into the soft skin, and he fixes his gaze on his own food. Only then does he realize that he hasn't touched his food that much, either. There's a small doodle of a frowning face on the hard egg yolk on his bibimbap, but that's about it.

"I'm… I'm sorry. I just wanted to–" Jongin takes a deep breath and blows at his bangs. "I know I shouldn't be meddling but you looked so tired and you still wanted to work on your thesis so I thought, hey, if hyung eats then he'll get enough energy to power through his school stuff again and–"

"Feed me," Joonmyun says, voice so soft he could have been breathing. He lets tongue peek from between his lips and licks along the swell of his bottom lip. "My hands are shaking and I don't trust myself to… feed myself properly." He clenches and unclenches his fists. Jongin can make out the light tremble of his fists, the way the veins on the back of his hands pop out. "I'm sorry. I just don't do well with people taking care of me."

Jongin raises both of his eyebrows, then drops then drops them when he sees the shy twist of Joonmyun's mouth. There's a faint blush painting Joonmyun's cheeks and really, it's probably the lighting at work, but Jongin relishes in it anyway, memorizes the look of a touch of pink in Joonmyun's cheeks and the way he's sucking in the right corner of his lips and jutting out the rest.

Joonmyun's still facing him, though, like he actually meant what he said earlier. "Well?" he says, then, and bumps his knees into Jongin's thigh before repeating, this time slowly, " _Well?_ "

 _Well, I didn't expect this –_ that's what Jongin wants to say right now. _Well, I might as well get swallowed by the ground now because you're asking me to feed you?_ He doesn't, though; instead, he reaches for Joonmyun's bowl and mixes the ingredients together with Joonmyun's utensils.

"I'm sorry for forcing this on you," Joonmyun rushes. "I– I think I can–"

"Just sit there and chew, hyung," Jongin says. He takes a small piece of the egg white and shifts in his seat, turning his whole body to the side to face Joonmyun. Their knees bump, and the jolt of electricity that shoots up his thighs numbs him for a moment. The pulse at the back of his knees is still strong, though, thumping more loudly than ever, and Joonmyun is smiling at him, pinning him with a stare, _waiting_ for Jongin to feed him his first meal of the day.

"Aaah–" Jongin says in an attempt to fill the silence. Joonmyun's features crack, and his lips quiver as he tries to suppress his laughter. "Okay, never mind. I won't do that again," Jongin mumbles. Then, stilling the wild beating in his chest, he leans forward and holds Joonmyun by the chin. "Open up, hyung."

It takes a while for Joonmyun to part his lips – he does, but not without running his tongue along his top lip, then catching his bottom lip between his teeth. Jongin keeps his hands as steady as possible, careful not to let Joonmyun feel the hitch of his breath through the trembling of his fingers. Joonmyun does him a favor and doesn't call him out on it, but doesn't stop the slow-forming smile on his lips from blossoming into a grin. They develop an easy rhythm after a while, and soon Joonmyun gathers enough energy to take a sip of the seaweed with the use of his spoon. Jongin guides him when at the slightest jerk of his hand, enveloping Joonmyun's tiny fist with his hand. It's a weird and awkward fit, but the contrast of Joonmyung's cool fingers against Jongin's warm ones are a nice mix.

The brighter flush on Joonmyun's cheeks is icing on the cake.

♬ ♬ ♬

"Oh. You… found him." Chanyeol opens the door wider and gestures for Jongin and Joonmyun to step inside. "Please, make yourselves comfortable."

Joonmyun offers Chanyeol a small smile as they walk past him in the narrow aisle and make their way inside the room. Joonmyun's dorm room isn't any bigger than Jongin's own, but it does look more spacious. The desk beside the bed is tidy, and the papers are arranged into neat stacks at the edge. There are boxes under the table, too, that Jongin predicts are filled with research material for Joonmyun's thesis. And then there's a small studio set up – a red head, green wallpaper rolled up on a wall, and a camera rested on a tripod. Maybe this is where Joonmyun shoots his videos. The cropping has always been tight in them, after all.

He cranes his neck a little and finds a sliding door near the bed. _Ah,_ Jongin thinks. That must be Chanyeol's side of the room. That makes Jongin lucky enough to not be sharing his private space with someone else. It's a miracle Joonmyun can stuff so many things in this room of theirs and not make it seem cramped. Jongin barely has any papers for school lying around in his room but his looks more untidy. He should get to placing his clothes inside his closet. If he gets dust all over them then it'll be a waste doing laundry every week.

"So this is where all the magic happens, huh?" Jongin says as he takes one step closer to the studio set up. He doesn't drop the hand on the small of Joonmyun's back, though.

Joonmyun takes him on a short tour of their room. "That's Chanyeol's cave, also called the entertainment room," he says. Chanyeol doesn't even have to slide the door all the way to the other side for Jongin to get what Joonmyun means – he can already see all the different consoles on Chanyeol's side of the room from where he is. "This is the common dining area. This is where we cry over academics, as well," Joonmyun continues. Chanyeol cackles in the background, but Jongin doesn't look over his shoulder to check on Chanyeol. The sound is enough to create an image of Chanyeol's features scrunching into something indiscernible. That, and Joonmyun's grip on his wrist is strong and steady, steering him to where they should go next.

"And this is where Chanyeol forces me to sleep. Because apparently, that's his job," Joonmyun mumbles. He looks over his shoulder, then says, "I'll go to bed at ten. Happy?"

" _Very,_ " Chanyeol replies. "Then you won't have to deal with me blasting porn on the stereo–"

Joonmyun takes a deep breath, shutting his eyes closed as he does so. "Whatever. I don't like your porn, anyway."

 _Then what kind of porn do you like?_ Jongin wants to ask, but that's not something you ask your senior _and_ idol after feeding him with shaky hands then dragging him into his room. He doesn't even know Joonmyun that well yet. Heck, he hasn't even shared a casual drink with Joonmyun yet! Alcohol makes and breaks friendships and Jongin doesn't want to ruin everything he's built with Joonmyun just by asking, _Hey, hyung, what kind of porn are you into? Do you like BDSM? Watersports? Do you like watching girls fuck guys with strap ons?_ Sharing porn is caring but Jongin supposes Joonmyun isn't that kind of friend.

He blinks a few times and feels his pocket for his phone. No texts from Zitao. Maybe he fell asleep while getting dressed or something. Or maybe he decided to go ahead and not share the last Pokemon cartridge in the store with Jongin. Jongin understands, he'd have done the same. There are neither friends nor family when it comes to getting the last Pokemon game. He sends Zitao a text, nonetheless, and says, _hey btw sorry, your hd's still w me, haven't transferred the dildos series to your drive yet. will return it to u on monday PROMISE!!!_

"Oh, didn't you mention having to meet up with a friend after this?" Joonmyun brings up. He looks up at Jongin from sitting down on the edge of his bed, then says, "You don't… have to hang around for too long if you have to leave now"

The lighting in the room isn't the best – no, it's bad. It's dim and it makes Joonmyun look five years older than he should be. It makes Joonmyun look more worn out the usual and steals the glimmer from Joonmyun's eyes. But Joonmyun's gaze is sharp, focused, assessing. It also looks like an invitation. And it probably would have been if Jongin has known Joonmyun for a lifetime and it would be normal for a freshman to push a senior down on his bed and nip along the column of his neck.

It isn't. Jongin is just another club member to Joonmyun, or maybe another Youtube channel subscriber. It just so happens that they're in the same organization and in the same room right now.

Chanyeol's giving them a weird look, a crazy smile. Soon, he's biting on his lower lip as he looks at Joonmyun, then Jongin, then back again.

Jongin's phone buzzes in his pocket and he mumbles _I just have to– check this–_ He fishes for his phone from his pocket and reads the message that has just come in, a text from Zitao that says, _whoops sorry man i fell asleep but hmm. if you want i can drop by your room and wait for the transfer to finish then we can go to the game shop? doesn't close until 8pm anyway :D :D :D_

"Was that your–" Joonmyun nods in the direction of Jongin's phone. "Your friend?"

Jongin types a quick reply – _5pm okay? just have to get some things done before heading out haha._ To Joonmyun, he says, "Yeah, but he just woke up. It'll take him another hour to get ready. He's… particular with his outfits."

Chanyeol laughs a little. "Ah, freshmen," he says. "Baekhyun was like that during our first semester. Come second sem, he'd ditched the polo shirts for baggy ones."

Jongin furrows his eyebrows a little then turns to Joonmyun, asking, "Same friend who… lends you baggy shirts for your videos, hyung?"

Joonmyun shakes his head, smiling. "Nah. Still too small. That would be Chanyeol." He points his thumb at Chanyeol, then gives Chanyeol a once-over. "I buy him shirts for Christmas so I can wear them for my videos eventually. It's a win-win situation."

Chanyeol snorts. "Can't say you have bad taste, hyung." He shifts his gaze a little, then gives Jongin a long, searching look. "Yeah, not bad at all."

Jongin's about to ask what the two are talking about when he feels his phone buzz in his pocket one more time. He gives it a quick check, laughing a little when he sees Zitao's message that says, _yeah great you know it takes me a while to prepare lol_. Chanyeol must have said something, because now Joonmyun's cocking at eyebrow at Chanyeol and whispering _what_ in a voice so faint Jongin almost doesn't catch it. But he hasn't spent years watching $uhos' – no, _Joonmyun's_ – videos for nothing. He hasn't spent years placing this online celebrity on a pedestal and admiring his taste in music, the fact that he has such a diverse pool of music favorites, and that he doesn't give a shit about people who laugh at him for his strange outfits.

He hasn't spent forever trying to be like him, or even better. So he knows this, _hears_ Joonmyun whisper, hears the mix of hesitation, surprise, and amusement in Joonmyun's voice when Joonmyun says again, a bit louder than before, "What?"

"Where are you meeting your friend?" Chanyeol asks.

"Uh. In my room?" Jongin scratches the back of his neck. "We're checking out a game shop nearby to grab the new Pokemon title–"

Chanyeol's lips fall open into a small 'o', and he nods slowly, as if each repetition bears a meaning different from the previous. "Oh. _Pokemon._ " He clears his throat, then asks, "Would you mind if I made you babysit Joonmyun-hyung a little longer? Baekhyunnie and Kyungsoo are coming over to make music and–"

Jongin's eyes widen. "Uh, okay?"

" _For school,_ " Joonmyun rushes. "They make music for school and I'm the only one among us four who has a nice condenser microphone." Joonmyun takes a deep breath, breathing noisily through his nose. He nudges Chanyeol in his side with his elbow. "Why don't you three buy one? I'm not the one majoring in music production and recording music."

"But you should," Chanyeol answers. He gives Joonmyun's hair a light ruffle. It's a better look on Joonmyun, Jongin thinks – the tousled hair, not the pout on his lips, but he supposes he could survive a few of those if his heart would just stop doing somersaults in his chest. "Anyway, would you? Or… would your friend mind if he tagged along? He tends to get too critical of our work when we record here."

"Why not in the broadcasting room?" Jongin offers.

Chanyeol raises an eyebrow at him. "D'you think he'll let us mess around with his set up there?" he asks, cocking his head in the direction of the mini studio.

"Right," Jongin mumbles. "Well, I guess Tao wouldn't mind? He's nice. I bet he'll like Joonmyun-hyung. Joonmyun-hyung's very likable."

Joonmyun presses his lips thinly together and gives him a careful look, eyes only peeking through his bangs. _Woohoo! Way to go, Jongin! You didn't have to tell Chanyeol about your lifelong boner for your favorite hyung!_ But Joonmyun doesn't say anything, doesn't even move save for the steady rise and fall of his chest. His lips quiver just a little, and then peeking out his tongue, running it between his lips, along the corners of his mouth.

"I don't want to impose," Joonmyun says. He scratches lines on his jeans and seethes when his nail catches on a stray string. "I can always stay at the club room to study. Then Baekhyun can pick me up there and–"

"No, it's fine. Come with us, hyung," Jongin rushes. He's sure Zitao won't mind – Zitao likes meeting new friends, after all. That, and Joonmyun is no stranger to Zitao. Jongin just wishes Zitao won't pull off a Sehun and tease him about his Youtube idol fantasies every chance he gets or that Zitao won't give him a 'gentle' push in Joonmyun's direction so he can hold Joonmyun close. He won't mind the lack of space between then, really, but that's cheating; if he ever wins Joonmyun over – heart, mind, and soul – he wants to do it his own way.

Jongin shakes his head, then stops as soon as he sees the light furrow of Joonmyun's eyebrows. He doesn't have to _win Joonmyun over,_ or anything. It's not as if Joonmyun is anyone's property. He just found Joonmyun first and–

"Yeah. It's fine. I'm sure Tao will be glad to meet you." Jongin nods. "He's… also a bit of a fan, I guess."

Joonmyun gulps hard, his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat and smiles. The hard corners of her mouth soften, easing into a smile. "Oh, okay. That's… good to know."

Jongin stays in Joonmyun's room for the next few minutes, legs drawn close together and palms rested on his knees. He watches at Joonmyun and Chanyeol engage in a small banter, watches at Baekhyun and Kyungsoo arrive at the doorstep of Joonmyun's room. He watches as the fatigue from Baekhyun's eyes lifts when Joonmyun stands from where he is and gives him a wave. He watches, with even more concentration than ever, as Baekhyun snakes an arm around Joonmyun's waist to pull him closer, their noses merely centimeters apart.

His phone sounds off in his pocket one last time and the spell breaks. Joonmyun pulls away from Baekhyun with a jerk of the body and Baekhyun lets Joonmyun take a step back. Kyungsoo looks to his side, at where Baekhyun is, then looks up at Chanyeol who only shrugs in response. "It's time, hyung," Jongin mumbles, and Joonmyun nods in acknowledgement. Turns on his heel to face Jongin and offers him a smile. Walks past Jongin to gather his things before slipping beside Jongin again, then nudging him in his side.

"Let's go?" Joonmyun asks, eyes fixed Jongin's own.

Jongin allows himself to get lost for a moment, seeing his reflection on Joonmyun's eyes, then nods. "Yup. Let's."

♬ ♬ ♬

Jongin's prediction as to Zitao getting along with Joonmyun is accurate so far – he loves it when Joonmyun talks about all these cool 'broadcasting stuff', but more than anything else he likes it when Joonmyun talks about his post-production process in the videos he uploads as Youtube user $udope. It sounds simple at first, the editing process, but it has so many layers that Jongin loses track of where they are come the equal resizing and how Joonmyun makes the sound levels parallel to each other even when doing a cut-to-cut edit of the clips.

"That's really cool," Zitao whispers, eyes wide in awe and lips parted only a little as he nods. "I mean, that never crossed my mind. I always thought it would be weird if you didn't use… real ambient noise when mastering your videos. But man, that's really cool!" A grin breaks across Zitao's features, and he shakes his head in disbelief. "And you do this for, what, a few hours? Doesn't even take a day to edit the whole fifteen-minute thing?"

Joonmyun laughs a little and gestures at Zitao, index finger drawing a circle a few inches away from Zitao's lips. Zitao licks it off at once, whatever it's supposed to be, and turns back to Joonmyun with as much attention as before. Joonmyun takes a lick of his ice cream and risks a glance at Jongin, eyes dancing with _something_ Jongin can't place yet. Then they step to a more well-lit area, standing still just in front of the game shop. From where Jongin is, Joonmyun looks his age again, not the man who hasn't had an ample amount of rest yet. He looks… much like $uho, except without the outfit and all the bling.

 _But Joonmyun-hyung isn't $uho without those,_ a voice at the back of his mind says. He pushes that thought to the very back of his mind and swallows hard. He turns to Zitao to answer his question. "It used to take hyung longer. A few days, give or take. But he's been doing it for a while already so–" He catches Joonmyun's gaze, then, the light furrow of his eyebrows and the soft laughter playing on his lips. "Yeah. Sorry. Basically, he's a superstar and he can edit videos in a flash now."

Joonmyun sucks in his bottom lip but gives in to the urge to chuckle. "He's right," Joonmyun says, then bumps Jongin so hard in his side that Jongin has to grip his ice cream cone tightly. He widens his eyes at Joonmyun but Joonmyun doesn't seem to be fazed. "Now, I perform magic on my videos and I basically do everything I told you earlier in a blink of an eye."

Zitao narrows his eyes at Jongin then turns to look at Joonmyun, albeit with softer eyes. "There's no magic involved."

Joonmyun cracks and snorts, but confesses, "No magic involved."

"Okay," Zitao says, nodding. "If I find out–"

"There's no magic involved, Tao. I _promise,_ " Joonmyun replies. He clasps a hand on Zitao's shoulder, then rubs circles with his thumb. Jongin feels his throat go dry and clench at nothing in particular. It feels… weird. "It's just me, my hands, and my trusty Adobe AfterEffects."

"Okay, okay, I believe you," Zitao mumbles. To Jongin, he says, "You are so far gone, Kim Jongin. So far gone."

They finish their ice cream after a while, and Jongin loses a bit of his composure when they step inside the game shop. He hasn't been to one of these in the recent past. Not since he's started devoting all of his time to studying, at least. Sooneung does that to you, transforms you from a breathing human being into a robot feeding off on information from books. Data input, great results as output. He looks around the shop, scans the shelves with his gaze. There are some unfamiliar titles for different consoles in all the shelves, but a few of his favorites stand out for him – Castlevania, Fire Emblem, The World Ends With You. All of the Pokemon titles since the migration from the Advance unit to the DS. All of his dreams of being a Pokemon master confined in one corner of the game shop, selling for 50% of the original price.

He turns to look at Zitao and groans, "I'm gonna die."

Zitao gives him a solemn pat on the back and says, "I know, man. I know. It was nice meeting you."

Joonmyun doesn't utter a word until he's beside Jongin, surveying the Pokemon titles with great interest. He takes three titles – Y, and then both Omega Ruby and Alpha Sapphire. "It's just so hard to pick between the two," he whispers, voice so faint. Jongin has to strain his hearing a little to catch the details of the statement. "I'd buy all these if I wasn't doing my thesis–"

The strangest idea hits Jongin, and he pushes it to the very back of his mind until it wriggles free from his control. "I can… buy one of the new titles and play through the game with you, I guess?" he offers. Joonmyun looks up at him, eyebrows furrowed, but doesn't speak. Jongin takes this as a sign to go on. "I mean, I can give you updates from time to time! Win-win situation, yeah?"

 _Win-win means not digging your own grave, Jongin,_ a voice at the back of his mind says. Joonmyun chuckles, though, and says, "As long as it doesn't get in the way of your studies, I guess."

"It won't," Jongin declares, grinning from ear to ear. He feels the sting at the corners, but it doesn't hurt as much as it should. Maybe it's the magic of Pokemon at work. It's _definitely_ that brand of magic. Bless Arceus. "I'm good at self-control," he adds, but has some trouble convincing himself about it. If self-control also involves abstaining from excess minutes of sleeping and lounging on his bed while staring at the emptiness of his ceiling then he's lying. Or he's telling a white lie, at least, because he _is_ good at controlling himself from making impulsive purchases. Impulsive video watching at two in the morning, not so much.

Joonmyun takes a deep breath and stares at him a while longer. Then he breaks the eye contact, and looks at his hands clasped together, his feet, and blows at his bangs. "If you say so. Just… know that I'm not imposing this on you, okay? For all I know, you don't want to grab a copy of the title yet for some unknown reason–"

"He's _dying_ to get it. He's just too lazy," Zitao says from a few feet behind them. Jongin looks over his shoulder, shooting Zitao a stern look, then sticks out his tongue. "Or too busy with school work. You know Jonginnie, he's such a hard worker."

Zitao sticks his tongue out right back at Jongin. Jongin looks away, tearing his gaze to look at Joonmyun instead. "Busy. With school. Also, residency."

Joonmyun stops for a moment, blinking, then turns to Jongin with a bright smile. "That's right! We can play Pokemon during your residency hours!" His voice drops to a whisper soon after, once he realizes the crack he'd made at the peak of his voice. "Provided that you don't have school work, at least. Or if you don't want to learn broadcast-y things."

"I do! But–" _But I want to play with you, hyung–_ Wait. That doesn't sound right. "But we can always give equal time to both, yeah? Like, we can allot 15 minutes radio things and 45 to playing–"

"Or the other way around," Joonmyun offers. He winks at the end of his statement. "That sounds like quite a plan." He grabs the title Jongin hasn't taken yet, then, and tells Jongin, "I'll open this and play with you after my defense. Pinky promise." Joonmyun sticks out his pinky at Jongin, then, and looks up at him, eyes wide and expecting.

He can't go down like this. He needs to at least put up a fight, somehow, but put all three of his things together in one package and he just finds himself so weak in the knees. So he says, after letting out a loud exhale, " _Fine._ "

"More time for radio practice. Delayed gratification in the form of Pokemon." Joonmyun turns their linked pinked into a hand shake. He gives Jongin's hand a light squeeze. "Makes the gaming experience much more thrilling, huh?"

Jongin has half the mind to nod fervently in agreement, but the better half of his senses tells him to not do anything stupid. So instead, he keeps his hand there, fingers wrapped around Joonmyun's tiny hand, the press of their palms warm, almost comforting. It isn't that cold anymore but Jongin feels a light shiver crawl down his spine, all the way to the small of his back and the back of his knees. His pulse grows stronger, louder, and right now there's nothing in the world that he wishes but for Joonmyun to _not_ feel the strength of his pulse through the snug fit of their hands. Still, he keeps his hand there because there's nothing wrong with indulging in a bit of warmth, right? There's nothing wrong about wanting a touch of warmth at the start of spring, with the last few traces of winter evaporating into air.

"More thrilling," Jongin says. He gulps hard. "Rewarding."

They leave the shop with a title each to themselves. Zitao talks Jongin's head off about The Legend of Zelda's latest installment and Joonmyun slips in an occasional comment about hearing things about the gameplay, the character design, the transferring of old data into the new game. He says it's a hassle to migrate from the old game to the new, but the smile on his lips betrays him, makes it look as if there's nothing in this world that can deter him from liking the gameplay once he's done with his thesis.

"Pokemon first, though," Joonmyun says, bumping his arm into Jongin's, then wiggles his eyebrows at Jongin. Jongin feels his legs turn into jelly. This isn't good.

They catch dinner at the nearest McDonald's and Joonmyun treats them to an extra round of fries. The food is good, but Jongin is still stuck between choosing the titles and the promise Joonmyun made earlier. Their little contract with each other and the promise of Joonmyun spending more time with Jongin during downtime or if he just needs to unwind. Like Jongin is the perfect stress-relief for a senior like him.

Like Jongin has that kind of power over him, the ability to make him feel completely at ease with things in the middle of the storm. Like Jongin has the same kind of power to make him happy, the way Joonmyun makes him smile. Like he trusts Jongin to not let him down.

♬ ♬ ♬

The plan is to open the game at the broadcasting club, with Joonmyun bubbling with excitement just beside him. What happens, instead, is Jongin acting as a piece of _something_ Joonmyun studies as he 'hosts' his own radio show at the other side of the booth.

"Go on," Joonmyun says, voice soft and calm even with his eyebrows furrowed. His eyes have been flitting from the material he's reading to whatever is projected on screen. A picture of the sound waves, possibly, as Jongin speaks into the microphone. "Just think of it as an ordinary show. I'll phone in as a caller and you have to take my call, but that doesn't happen until ten minutes after."

Jongin gulps hard, then reminds himself not to do it again because condenser microphones are extra sensitive. The pick up even the smallest of sounds. "Like what? Hyung, I'm not– I'm not good at this. I'm just a freshman! I haven't even done anything like this back when I was still in high school!"

Joonmyun laughs a little then finally, _finally_ lifts his gaze. His eyes are a barricaded door through the glass. Jongin feels a tight knot at the base of his throat and he takes quick breaths to ease it, but to no avail. It sits there like it's always meant to be resting in Jongin's throat. Like he's accustomed to feeling this way and he just has to deal with it a solution to the problem.

"But you did great in that mock hosting of ours during your auditions," Joonmyun says. He drops the stapled bunch of papers he was holding earlier then raises both of his fists in a thumbs-up. "You can do it! You won't screw up!"

"But what if I do?" Jongin asks. He worries his bottom lip.

"My grades are at stake here," Joonmyun replies. He winks at the end, and Jongin doesn't know what to make of it. Either way, it makes the lurching sensation in his stomach grow wilder. "You _won't_."

Joonmyun plays a familiar enough opening music that Jongin feels like he's watching one of Joonmyun's shows. It's the easiest way to make Jongin feel comfortable with things, at least, because then the mock radio show won't feel like a test but more of a running commentary of what Jongin thinks about $uhio's latest recommendation. He takes a deep breath and lets the sound fill his ears, his senses, crawl under his skin. Joonmyun raises a hand in front of him, then gestures at the rolled paper in front of Jongin. He has three fingers held out and, slowly, he counts down to 1 until all his fingers are balled into a fist.

Jongin clenches his free hand into a fist and summons his best smile. This won't be shown on TV, though, or even online. But Joonmyun _will_ watch this a couple of times or so, so he has to make it good, somehow. Heaving a sigh, Jongin moves closer to the microphone and parts his lips to speak. He draws the sheets of paper close to him and pulls out his glasses from his shirt pocket, slipping it up the bridge of his nose.

He catches the way Joonmyun's eyes flit from the tips of his fingers to where Jongin's glasses are now. His eyes linger on the dip of Jongin's bottom lip and then the look is gone, replaced instead with a sharp, focused gaze.

"Good afternoon, everyone!" Jongin says, reading the script Joonmyun had developed out loud. "You are listening to the hottest station in Seoul, 106.1 KBS FM."

The script is straightforward – there are two segments, each ten minutes from each other, and in between those segments he has to play two to three songs that best fit the theme of the previous discussion. _Is this a test? For me?_ Jongin wants to ask, but Joonmyun's eyes are so focused and he looks so completely attuned with his study, his craft. It's like he's studying every lilt of Jongin's voice, every quirk of it, every dot on the wave form that shows the smallest changes in mood and tone in Jongin's voice. _Man, I wish I'd vocalized earlier,_ a voice at the back of his mind says, because never in his life has he encountered a person patient enough to study the highs and the lows of his voice. He's never had exceptional vocal quality, after all, even for voice-overs and program hostings.

He reaches the first discussion for the afternoon, and it takes a while for him to figure out the text on the script. He furrows his eyebrows, then widens his eyes at the text once he digests the characters. _#1 Talk on sexual orientation, the segue to talk on sexual normalcies as dictated by the society,_ it reads.

He looks up at Joonmyun, wanting to press the sheet of paper to the glass in an attempt to ask, _what the actual fuck?_ , but if this were an actual radio show then he might be fired for that already. So instead, he tilts his head to the side then runs his index finger through the first line of text, even as he delivers a short comment on the track that has just finished playing.

Jongin fades out the music and in comes Joonmyun's call. "Hello? You're calling KBS FM," Jongin says a greeting. "What's your name?"

"Joseph," Joonmyun answers. Jongin furrows his eyebrows as if asking, _why Joseph?_ Joonmyun nods at him urging him to continue, and he asks how old 'Joseph' is. "I'm… nineteen. Turning twenty this coming May."

"Oh wow," Jongin replies, whistling to buy him some time. There's till a bit of background music, only too faint that people who don't have really good hearing won't be able to catch the sound. "Call again in May and we'll give you a greet, okay, Joseph?" He laughs a little and Joonmyun rolls his eyes at him, a small smile lifting the corners of his mouth. "So, Joseph, why are you calling?"

Joonmyun drums his fingers on the table. It almost looks as if he's having just as much trouble as Jongin is just trying to mention the topic on air. Both of them know that this isn't going on broadcast, but the topic is so tricky that Jongin won't _dare_ think of how a real radio DJ would react to the question being posed to him. Heck, he wouldn't even want to be in that show if that happens. If he was tuned in, he'd definitely stick around to see how the DJ handles the situation. _Quick thinking is key,_ he remembers Joonmyun mentioning before. _Good DJs have to think fast on how to answer tricky statements that callers throw at them._

"I was just wondering," Joonmyun begins, voice dropping to a whisper. "I was wondering, DJ Kai, what you thought homosexuality?" Joonmyun sounds different, like he's purposely changing his voice to create a character, distance himself from the situation and take an objective approach at studying the event unfolding in front of him so he could use the observation as data for his thesis. Jongin likes that, being able to take a neutral stand. He likes the concept of being at ease in the face of danger. "You know the kind of society we live in and while skinship is encouraged among Korean idols, when… when us normal people do it, other people think it's strange."

Jongin gulps hard and thinks back on the time, the very first time he slipped his fingers between Sehun's own. Sehun had tensed them, looked at him with wide eyes, then looked at their intertwined hands. He'd said then, _it's cold,_ and Sehun hadn't asked anything else, not even with his eyes. But that was years ago. They were too young then, maybe too foolish to think too much of it.

Years after and the way Sehun's muscles had shifted, had tensed against his own that time hits him like a truck. And boy, does it hit hard.

"Well, you can't expect everyone to be comfortable with it," Jongin says. He takes a deep breath and runs his thumb along the edge of the paper a few times. There aren't any creases on the paper, though. "When you're brought up in a society that frowns upon same-sex relationships, it's… but normal to feel a bit weirded out by it. So we have to respect people who feel that way. Because if we, as supposedly open-minded people, force our opinion on them, then that doesn't make us any different from those who condone homosexuality."

"So then–" Joonmyun bites his bottom lip, looks at the paper in front of him, then looks back up at Jongin. "You're saying that you support it? The movement?"

Jongin laughs a little. "In no way am I speaking in behalf of the whole group but I will say this – I support equality and the freedom to _responsibly_ express oneself. Liking another man or another woman doesn't make you any less of a person. It isn't…" Jongin purses his lips in search of the right word, and he clenches his fists when the closest alternative hits his mind. "Demeaning? Yes, it isn't demeaning. I guess right now it's more of… finding a balance between pushing for homosexuals to be respected in the society and not stepping on the boundaries of those people who won't relent to that way of thinking, no matter what."

Joonmyun nods, slow and thoughtful, then leans back into his seat. Not missing a beat, Jongin asks, "Does that answer your question, Joseph? Is there anything else that you'd like to ask."

Joonmyun stops midway through scribbling something on the piece of paper in front of him, then looks up at Jongin. "Yeah, it does," Joonmyun says. "That's… pretty much it. That's all I want to know." He writes something on the other side of the paper then holds up up against the glass. Big, bold characters that spell out _COMMERCIAL BREAK!!!_ glare at Jongin.

"Alright. Thank you for your question, Joseph, and thanks for tuning in!" He goes through a list of songs in his head, then, something that won't be a bad follow up after that tricky discussion. _If this is a fucking test then I should've passed it by now,_ he wants to tell Joonmyun, but his heart is thumping too wildly in his chest.

Then he tells himself, _Focus, Jongin. Focus,_ in the same manner that Joonmyun would tell him.

He spots a good enough track from the roster to play, then leans closer to the microphone again. His throat doesn't feel as tight anymore, but he can still feel his heartbeat at the back of his elbows, his knees. Taking a deep breath, he says into the microphone, "We'll be playing one of our listeners' requests now, a song from an album of a successful Youtube artist who's known for his collaborations with Kina Granis. This is Imaginary Friend and he has finally released a great album called 'Fire Escape'! Please do check it out. We bring you 'Chasing Ghosts'. Hope you enjoy! This is DJ Kai and you are listening to 106.1 KBS FM, the hottest station in Seoul."

The upsound of the music isn't as smooth as Jongin would want it to be, but it's good enough. He soft sound of the guitar couples with the man's vocals soar high about the thumping in his chest, and he allows himself to lean back against his chair, stare at an empty space for a minute, clear his mind and think of nothing else. The music makes it easy, makes it more _manageable_. The silence is broken by Joonmyun entering Jongin's side of the booth, the turn of the knob light.

"Sorry about that. My thesis kind of touches on something like that, and I had to see how you'd react to a question so intriguing." Joonmyun takes the empty seat beside Jongin and settles down on it, wheeling himself closer to Jongin until his knees bump into the side of Jongin's seat. "You did well."

Jongin laughs a little. "Could've gone bad. I wasn't prepared for it," he mumbles. He scratches the surface of the table in front of him. He hasn't looked up to meet Joonmyun's eyes yet, but he can see a hint of the expression in Joonmyun's features through the reflection on the computer screen. "I know it's part of the test but– I… really wasn't expecting that."

"We rarely expect questions like those on air," Joonmyun answers. "Most sound techs screen the questions before they get to the DJs, but this is a worst case scenario. You handled the situation with so much composure, though. Had that been Baekhyun, even with all his professional training, the shock would have shown on his face."

Ah, Baekhyun. Tiny guy who loves touching Joonmyun. Jongin feels his throat tighten. "Thanks. I guess… I guess it helped that I was running through your tips in my head while I was on air."

Joonmyun cocks his head to the side. "Tips?"

"Yeah. The ones you gave for the exam – being focused all the time, thinking quickly, being extra careful with words. For some reason, there's this… recording of you in my head that keeps saying those things when I'm at the brink of saying something stupid and–"

And _you don't have to dig another grave for yourself, Jongin. Do you want to die again? Joonmyun doesn't have to find out about your obsession and hero-worship for him. Knowing you like $uho is enough._

"–and I'm glad that paid off," Joonmyun says. There's a soft smile tugging up on the corners of his mouth, unlike the tight press of his lips earlier when he was on the other side of the booth. Joonmyun has nice lips that look soft and supple and would probably look good on Jongin's own, would feel good sliding against Jongin's mouth. _Focus, Jongin._ "It's good to know that you're applying what you've learned even after the test."

 _Not all the time,_ he wants to say, but he doesn't. Instead, he nods and laughs a little in reply. "I try hard. It's… one of my skills, doing my very best."

The second half of the 'show' sees Joonmyun acting as the guest for today's radio show. They discuss something just as tricky, something about religion and achieving peace among different faiths through _creating_ a new binding law when it comes to religious beliefs. "If you ask me – and again, I reiterate, this is just my opinion – I think that's–" Bullshit. Complete bullshit. Jongin doesn't say that, though. He'd like to think that Kai is eloquent enough to not resort to using swear words on air. "–not right. You know what the universal law when it comes to religion should be? Respect. Don't have anything nice to say? Then shut–"

"Your mouth and don't say anything at all," Joonmyun finishes. It's a nice save, Jongin thinks. He could've blurted out _shut the fuck up_ earlier after denying himself the pleasure of not saying 'bullshit'. "The reality is, if we keep arguing and don't stop long enough to listen to what the other has to say, the nothing good will come out of all the fighting."

Jongin nods, slow and thoughtful. "Besides, this isn't a battle. Some keep forgetting that we're striving for equality and world peace. You can't–" He chuckles, then shakes his head. "You can't achieve that when you keep going _ah, my opinion's better than yours–_ "

It's Joonmyun's turn to laugh this time. It's a bit silly, how deep into their characters they are getting. It's almost as if they're doing a real show, alongside each other again, but this time as equals and not as teacher and student. It feels different. It feels… Jongin can't put it into words. All he knows that it sends a funny tingle to the tips of his toes and makes his insides turn. It's a good lurch, though, not one that makes the hair at the back of his neck stand. If anything, it sends a warm sizzle down his abdomen and a shiver up his spine, a nice push and pull.

"It's like saying rock is better than pop or ballads," Jongin adds.

"Which, of course, isn't true. No genre is superior to the other. Music is a universal language, not a universal medium of war," Joonmyun says in agreement. "So no matter where you are, no matter what genre or language of music it is that you're listening to, don't stop listening to music. Don't stop humming or singing or just plain bobbing your head to the song that won't get out of your mind."

Jongin flashes a thumbs-up at Joonmyun in approval and shows him the highlighted track in his screen. Joonmyun nods at him, then, and beams, then turns back to facing his microphone. "So here's one of the best songs that captures the essence of what music is to mankind. Give it up for The Carpenters and one of their timeless songs, _Thank You For The Music._ This is DJ $uho–"

Jongin looks to his side and meets Joonmyun's gaze. "And this is DJ Kai–"

Joonmyun shifts in his seat so that his body is facing Jongin's own. His face is still turned a bit to where the microphone is, but the friction of their knees bumping into each other is enough a reminder for Jongin that Joonmyun is close, probably too close for comfort, and that he's not alone here. Joonmyun moves forward, even closer now, until one of his knees slides past the tight press of Jongin's thighs to each other. None of it happens for more than a few seconds, but Jongin feels as if he's been holding his breath forever, giving into the allure of their thighs pressed to each other, giving up all sense of professionalism in the booth at the onset of Joonmyun breaching personal space. But Joonmyun hasn't lost focus yet, still speaking into the microphone with the same practiced ease that any DJ would possess.

"And you are listening to The Carpenters here on 106.1 KBS FM, the hottest station in Seoul."

The transition from their funky background music to soft intro of _Thank You For The Music_ is so smooth that Jongin almost doesn't realize that it's already playing. The transition, too, from being trapped by Joonmyun's thighs to being at least one foot apart happens so fast, too, that Jongin doesn't realize the gaping lack of warmth until the song his the chorus. Joonmyun has pushed himself away from the table already when he gives Jongin three soft claps, eyes fixed on Jongin's own.

"Great job back there," Joonmyun says, smiling. He leans back in his seat, legs crossed. Jongin gulps hard – just seconds ago, he felt how warm it was to be between Joonmyun's thighs and– "You'd make a great DJ someday, you know."

Jongin laughs a little because there's nothing else that he can do. There's nothing else that makes sense – not the tight press of their bodies earlier, or the distance between them right now. Nothing, not even the way he's clenching and unclenching his fists in an attempt to still the heavy thumping in his chest.

He takes a deep breath and tears his eyes from Joonmyun's own. He looks at his shoes, focuses on the tiny breaks in the gums. He has to stop using this pair everyday. "I… I dunno, hyung. I haven't thought that far yet. I just want to make videos right now and get really good grades while I'm at it. The best grades I can get."

He hears Joonmyun shift in his seat when the computer chair creaks a little. There's a tiny gasp from Joonmyun, and then a soft, _Jesus, why is there a broken chair here–_ "Really? You've never–"

Jongin shakes his head. "Not once. I mean, before senior year in high school, I always thought I'd go into business ad or marketing or something." He laughs a little. He would've done great in those courses, too. He's a star in mathematics, after all; numbers just love him. But that's the thing – he likes numbers and history and science. _Likes._ And he loves making crappy videos in MovieMaker, loved it even more when he moved to Vegas. "And now, I'm here."

"And now, you're here," Joonmyun echoes, voice softer than before. "Sitting there, a few feet away, relaxing after boarding with me." Joonmyun takes a deep, shaky breath, air passing noisily through his nose. "Great song picks, by the way. I knew I could trust you on those."

"Really?"

Joonmyun nods. "Really."

Jongin waits – for a follow up, for Joonmyun to ask why he picked film and sound over business and marketing because he loves sharing pieces of information about himself sometimes. Only sometimes. He waits for Joonmyun to mention another artist, maybe draw parallelisms from Imaginary Friend's style to that of another Youtube sensations because they sound the same sometimes, like Alex Goot and Sam Tsui. He waits because the song is almost over and the program is, too. And he waits because the camera is still rolling and he's still here, trapped in the booth as Joonmyun's test subject for his thesis. Trapped in Joonmyun's spell without any sign of escape.

Joonmyun scurries closer, using his feet to drag himself to where Jongin is. The shuffle of his feet is funny, and Jongin allows himself to laugh a little. "I'm sorry for dragging you into this mess of a thesis of mine," Joonmyun says.

 _Stop apologizing for everything,_ Jongin wants to say, but you can't just tell your senior that, right? They're not good enough friends yet for Jongin to tell Joonmyun that without a hint of apprehension. Maybe they need to share… a couple of life-changing experiences before that happens. Experience something so thrilling that only the two of them can share, like a little secret of theirs. Joonmyun doesn't seem to be fond of secrets, though. $uho is a big enough secret to keep; he doesn't need the weight of other silly lies to make his life more difficult.

"It's fine," he whispers. He sits up, snapping his spine straight, and says, "Thanks for trusting me enough to… board for your thesis. And for you."

Joonmyun raises an eyebrow at him like he's saying, _are you serious now?_ But Jongin's tired of reading too much into Joonmyun's expressions. If there really want anything that Joonmyun wanted to say, he could've aired it out already. Made it known, through his videos or through a touch that lingers longer than the usual. if there's anything he wants to say, really wants to say, then Joonmyun will find a way to communicate that message to Jongin. He _is_ a broadcasting major, after all; isn't he supposed to know exactly where to reach people and the best way too reach them?

"Can I buy you a snack? Or dinner? For all the trouble I've caused?"

Jongin laughs. "Nah. It's okay, hyung." He waves a hand about. "I'm good. I learned a lot, anyway. And actually being in control of the booth without anyone to direct me? That's more than any freshman could ask for!"

"But your playing time–"

"–can wait," Jongin finishes. He lays a palm flat on Joonmyun shoulder and gives Joonmyun a light squeeze. "Relax, hyung. I'm telling you, this is great experience. Come Broadcasting class, I'll have an edge because I know how to… fiddle with the knobs already and stuff. It's all good, okay?"

Joonmyun takes a deep breath, then places a hand atop Jongin's own. "Okay."

Jongin begins to pull away to – go back to the main hall? Get started on his reading for the day? Do his homework that's due next week? He isn't sure. Whatever he's supposed to do, Joonmyun's keeping from doing so with the warm press of his palm on the back of Jongin's hand. It tickles his skin, pricks it. It stings. It numbs his limbs, the tips of his fingers. It makes heat rush from his neck all the way to his cheeks, and then the rest of his face. It's weird because Jongin is supposed to have graduated from this idol-crushing stage by now, but he hasn't yet.

And it looks like he isn't moving on to the next level anytime soon.

"I'm buying you dinner and you don't have a choice," Joonmyun says, grinning. Jongin only blows at his bangs in response because there's nothing that he can do, anyway. At best, he can put up at fight for a while and then yield to Joonmyun's request – no, _order._ At worst, he can let Joonmyun drag him to the cafeteria and watch with mortification as Joonmyun feeds him with his chopsticks.

Besides, this is free food and he knows it's a crime to say no to it. So he chokes it up to that reasoning and lets Joonmyun lead him out of the booth and into the seat opposite his own in the main hall. There's nothing weird about this. It's business as usual.

♬ ♬ ♬

It's been a good month and a half since the start of the semester. Midterms aren't until a month and a half after, but already Jongin can feel the stress of the preparation for it. It's one assignment after the other, one exam on top of a presentation on top of _another_ presentation, this time with a group. He groans instead of cursing under his breath because it's easier. Also, more convenience because he doesn't have to make an effort to utter a few words.

"Say it: we're doomed," Zitao mumbles from across the table, eyes without any glimmer and lips pressed together in a tight frown. Taemin, someone they met in Boa's class, raises two hands in surrender and buries his face in his book. Jongin looks around them – the library is littered with students with disheveled hair. There are piles of books on every desk and nobody, save for a few people, is talking. If this is what the road to midterms looks like then Jongin isn't sure if he wants to know what the campus looks like during midterm week; finals week, all the more.

"Could've been worse," Taemin offers. His speech is muffled by the pages of the book but Jongin can make out the keywords. "We got exempted from the pre-midterms for Intro to Sound. We have practicals instead of a written exam for Cinematography." Zitao leans closer, eyebrows furrowed. His comprehension is better on good days. Then again, they haven't been getting any good days recently. This – a day without a scheduled report or an exam – is the closes they can get to one. "I'm not here to memorize any art crap. I'm here to create shit!"

Jongin draws his index finger close to his lips and whispers, "Sssh." He looks around for an audience then moves his chair closer, lifting it off the ground a little so that he won't have to deal with the screeching noise. "But remember, History of Film–"

"Shit," Zitao groans. "I'm getting things mixed up now. Next thing I know, I'll be confusing Eyck for some movie director and say he did that movie instead of painting the thing– What's that called?"

Jongin takes a deep breath. He can feel his pulse in his temples throbbing. The migraines have been getting worse recently. The mere thought of exams being a month away makes the pain even more unbearable. "Y'know what? Food. We need to eat." He grabs the two by their wrist and shakes their arms a little. "We need to eat and recharge and then we can–"

"Play later, yeah?" Zitao offers. "I haven't touched my DS for two weeks now. _Two weeks!_ "

Taemin looks at them with furrowed eyebrows. "Is that some euphemism for jacking off or something?"

Jongin lets his face fall forward into the book he's reading and winces when he feels the point of his pencil dig into his cheek. From the other side of the table, Zitao says, "Okay, that's it. We're taking a break."

Taking a break means playing Pokemon Alpha Sapphire in the cafeteria during lunch. It's a free day for Jongin, anyway, but he's supposed to go to the club room at 2 p.m. because that's how it's always been – studies in the morning until lunch, and then club things from two in the afternoon until around five. Then he'd grab snacks with Joonmyun and whoever else is around, but usually it's just the two of them. With Baekhyun and Kyungsoo working on their own projects and Chanyeol belonging to a completely different department, their schedules aligning is a blessing. It's like Sehun and Jongin's waking up and sleeping schedules finally finding a common point after these months of being apart.

The last time Jongin talked to Sehun was weeks ago, after he got his copy of Pokemon Omega Ruby and waved it in front of Sehun's jealous ass. "Ah, I love being in Asia," Jongin had teased Sehun then, because the game had always been released a week later in the U.K.. One of the perks of Pokemon being a Japanese game. The others include more wifi Pokemon downloads for Asia-locked consoles. "This is what you get for flying to the U.K.," he'd even added.

Sehun only laughed and shook his head in response. Jongin waited for a good retort because Sehun always had a nice comeback for Jongin. Times have changed, though. He got only silence in response.

Zitao pauses to save his game and pops a piece of tteokbokki in his mouth. "Say, what? You haven't even gotten to the third gym yet? Dude, you've had the game for _weeks_ and you've been playing at least an hour everyday–"

"I don't play unless Joonmyun-hyung's around," Jongin mumbles. He stuffs his mouth tteokbokki and mulmandu and kimchi. He feels the sting of the spices on his lips and thinks, _shit, wrong move._ "I promised. We made a promise."

Taemin laughs a little, but for the most part he's wheezing. He'd downed the last few sips of his kimchi jjigae in one gulp. "You made a promise to what? Explore every single place in Hoenn? _Dude._ " He downs his ice-cold water in one big gulp and only ends up cough all the more. Zitao rubs slow circles on his back. "The time will come when the people in the Pokemon world will lock the doors to their houses and–"

"They already did. Some of them, at least," Zitao replies. "Fifth gym. I was shocked. I was like, 'wow, these people are slowly losing trust in Pokemon.' It's a sad, sad world."

Taemin looks up at Zitao, the furrow of his eyebrows growing deeper, then looks back at Jongin. "But yeah. I'm saying, you can put off saving the world from… What's your version again? Ruby, right? You can't keep putting off saving the world from Team Magma. Groudon _will_ attack the region–"

Jongin huffs. "I made a _promise_ with Joonmyun-hyung, okay? Okay. Look. Treat that promise as… Rayquaza. The thing that will stop the war between Groudon and Kyogre. How about a remake for Emerald, yeah?"

Zitao and Taemin lock their eyes on his. Their faces are void of any sign of approval and really, Jongin doesn't know what to make of this. All he knows right now is that he won't sacrifice trust for the sake of advancing in the plot of a game he so loves. That's being selfish – he's sure Joonmyun hasn't even unboxed his Alpha Sapphire yet. And the look on Joonmyun's face whenever they go through the game together isn't something he's willing to give up just yet. He wants more of it, wants to keep that look, that smile to himself. He's not willing to give that up for the sake of progressing in a game and finish the first playthrough on his own.

 _We made a promise. To each other,_ he wants to say, but the look on Zitao's face is enough to dissuade him from doing so.

Zitao takes a deep breath and looks around for an audience. He reaches for Jongin's wrist, then, and wraps his fingers around it. Zitao's grip isn't loose, but it isn't so tight either. It's enough to pin Jongin in place, sure, but it doesn't hurt. Zitao only holds his stare for a moment until he says, voice dropping to a whisper, "You don't want to make him sad, don't you? Or disappoint him because you made a promise to each other?"

"That's–" Strangely accurate. A hundred percent accurate. But Zitao doesn't have to know that. "That's... not..."

The ruckus in the cafeteria drowns out Zitao's next statement, but Jongin is sure it's only a repetition of the first. He can read the slow movement of Zitao's lips, the way he carefully crafts his statement because he knows Jongin well enough by now to know that abrasive confrontations? Those won't work. Jongin is never the type to resort to violence. Maybe a light jab on the arm, but even that he reserves for special occasions.

Back in the day, that was his way of telling Sehun that _Dude, it can't be this easy for you to read me. That's unfair._ But that ship has long sunk. If Sehun had any plans of jumping ship – from girls to boys and eventually into Jongin's tiny paper boat, he would've already. Sehun isn't the type to waste any time. And Jongin is exactly the type to spend as much time waiting for someone to come around and come forward with a solid statement, a definition on what they are.

He shakes that thought away and focuses on Zitao's heavy gaze. Jongin asks, "What now?"

"You don't want to break your promise because it pains you to see him frowning," Zitao answers. There's a small smile at the corners of his mouth, but Jongin has to squint hard to be able to make out its details. Figure out the kinks of Zitao's smile, because Zitao almost always looks as if he's half-scowling when he only means to greet someone with a warm smile. "And it pains you because this idol who you've always, I dunno, put on a pedestal and worshipped never even treated you like you were beneath him. He treated you as an equal."

Jongin takes a deep breath. He can't be that easy to read. If he is then he'd have to rework his bluffing skills. That can be why he hasn't won over Kyungsoo yet during those Poker sessions in the club room. "Oh, _come on–_ "

Taemin gives Zitao a pat on the back and says, "Spot on, man."

"You two are _the worst_ "

"And that also means I'm right," Zitao says, grinning. He loosens his hold on Jongin, then rubs circles on the back of Jongin's hand. It feels different from how Joonmyun does it. Joonmyun holds him like he's a porcelain doll, like he's extra fragile or that he cares just a little bit more than he should. Jongin laughs at himself – he must be imagining things again.

But the thundering pulse on Joonmyun's palm doesn't like. The cool pads of the fingers against Jongin's warm skin don't lie. And Joonmyun isn't the type to lie about these things, either.

"We made a promise, okay? And I intend to keep that," Jongin says, then turns his attention back on his forgotten tteokbokki. He focuses all of his attention on that, shuns away all other distractions and flushes out untoward sounds wriggling inside his ear. And then Joonmyun's voice begins to fill his senses – his soft, laughter, his words of encouragement, the perpetual ringing of _Focus, Jongin, just stay focused_ in Jongin's ears.

When he looks up, Taemin has already moved on from his ramyun to the leftover mulmandu. Zitao's gaze is still on his, steady and sharp, but soon he's looking away and allowing Jongin a piece of his privacy.

Jongin turns back to look at the seaweed soup to his left, marvels at his reflection on the soup. _You're in too deep, kid,_ he tells himself. He blinks and an image of himself shaking his head greets him when his vision refocuses. _You're a lost cause. A really lost cause._

♬ ♬ ♬

(There's a distant memory of a conversation with Joonmyun at the back of Jongin's mind. He'd broached the topic then, teased Joonmyun by said, "Hyung, what if I suddenly felt like doing a marathon of Omega Ruby?" It took Joonmyun a few good seconds to reply then, and without words even – a small smile, a cock of an eyebrow. Only minutes after, after Jongin saved his game and turned off his DS in preparation for snack time, did Joonmyun ask, "Do you? Feel like finishing it soon, I mean."

"Well, I _did_ promise," Jongin said, then worried his bottom lip. "That we'll go through the game together–"

"If you want to finish it without me, it's fine," Joonmyun finished. He shrugged, laughed, even smiled long after that. "It's your game. You're just doing me a favor and giving me something to look forward to, really. It would be selfish to keep you from doing something you wanted, right?"

 _And it would be stupidly selfless for you to think that way, hyung,_ Jongin wanted to say then. But he didn't. Instead, he said, "I made a promise, hyung. And I keep my promises."

Joonmyun looked up at him for a few good seconds, not uttering a word, with a funny kind of look in his eyes. His eyebrows were furrowed a little and his lips were pursed and he was _fumbling_ with the hem of his shirt. It was cute, but it made Joonmyun look unsure of himself. It wasn't a good look on him.

"I'll hold onto that, then," Joonmyun replied after a while. He held out a hand, helping Jongin get up. And he didn't let go until ten minutes after, when they were supposed to leave the room and silence their grumbling stomachs.)

♬ ♬ ♬

Jongin trudges down the passageway from the Film building to the Broadcasting building with two books tucked under one arm, and his messenger bag slung on his shoulder. He's experienced worse – the week before, he had to balance at least three hard-bound books on either arm. Three days ago, there was the addition of a few art materials to the ensemble. Two days ago, the load began to ease and he'd deposited two of the books he'd been lugging around for a while already. Another day after and with all of their pre-midterm exams done, he's down to his battle outfit plus the two books as his shield.

"Need help?" comes a familiar voice, deeper than it should be. Jongin looks up at the man a few feet away and grins. "Wow. You look... better."

"Got some sleep last night," Jongin mumbles. Chanyeol seems to get it, though, nodding then taking the books off his load. "Then a nap before going here. Might have– Whoops–" He almost trips on the elevation, but Chanyeol catches him with his free hand. "Yeah, I might have dozed off longer than I should. I was supposed to be here thirty minutes ago."

"Well, at least you have color now," Chanyeol argues. "The last time I saw you, you were so pale. Paler than Joonmyun-hyung."

Jongin snorts. "You're exaggerating, hyung."

Chanyeol shrugs. "Well, he looks better now as well. Passed the first draft of his paper yesterday so he finally got some sleep." Chanyeol draws his shoulders back instead of locking his arms behind his back. The light clicking of Chanyeol's bones makes Jongin wince a little. "More like he finally let me tuck him in bed because you know him, he's a fucking workaholic."

"It's... good that he has you, you know, to remind him of the things he should be doing," Jongin whispers. It's not as if he knows what's written on Joonmyun's to do list – Joonmyun's schedule is still a mystery to him – but he does know that 'rest' ranks low in the priority list. So Chanyeol is doing a good job as a roommate and a friend. It isn't everyday that you find someone who can tolerate your weird rapping at obscene hours in the evening just so you can upload something for your Youtube subscribers. It isn't everyday that you find a roommate who will make it a point to check on your with your _other friends_ just to make sure that you're alright, either.

"Well, I try to be a good friend," Chanyeol says, voice dropping to a whisper. He knocks on the door with the tip of his shoe. "Someone has to look after him. At least I don't have to worry about making sure he eats on time." Chanyeol laughs a little. "You seem to be doing well in that department."

"Me?" Jongin asks, pointing finger poking his chest. He hasn't done much. Sure, he's fed Joonmyun a couple of times, dragged him out of the club room to get a decent meal and _not just coffee, hyung, because that's not food,_ but he isn't sure if any of those instances have made a difference. Joonmyun has an uncanny ability to bounce back to life after only a five-minute respite, after all. Jongin won't be surprised if the time it took for Jongin to coax Joonmyun out of his seat and then walk to the cafeteria sprung him back to life already. "Nah, I'm just– I don't think–"

"You're doing a great job," Chanyeol says again, with more finality this time. He knocks on the door with his elbow this time, and when no one answers he whips out his ID from his wallet. "Ugh. Either he's asleep or Baekhyun's here."

Jongin furrows his eyebrows. "What does that have to do with anything?"

Chanyeol snorts, then swings the door forward. "You don't want to know."

Joonmyun's table faces the door so it'll be easy to spot him, but he isn't on the other side of the desk. All his things are on the table, though – readings, cellphone, highlighters in all the colors of the rainbow – but the owner? Nowhere to be seen. Jongin looks around some more and puts his things down on the table in the 'common study area', then takes a few steps closer inside, craning his neck.

Chanyeol takes a deep breath when he spots something on the couch beside Joonmyun's table. "Right. The booth." He turns to Jongin and says, "Hey kid, face the other side of the room. You'll thank me later."

"Huh?"

"I said–" Chanyeol places both hands on Jongin's shoulders and pushes him back in the direction of the study area, then makes him settle down on one of the seats. "Face _that_ side of the room and… I dunno, put on your headphones or something? If you hear anything strange, don't look elsewhere. Just focus on studying."

He looks to his side, studying Chanyeol's features. His lips are pursed, and his eyebrows are furrowed a little. A corner of his mouth is twisted in a way that makes him look conflicted, though. Or scared, maybe, but not in the way that ghosts freak the fuck out of him. Whatever it is, he knows the consequences of what will happen. Jongin isn't sure if he wants to hang around long enough to witness that.

He looks over his shoulder, surveying the room one last time, and catches sight of Baekhyun's cardigan on Joonmyun's chair. _Oh._ "Yeah, sure. I have–" He takes out his headphones and puts them on. He scrolls to his most upbeat playlist and blasts them in his headphones, then raises two thumbs up in Chanyeol's direction.

Chanyeol nods at him, ruffles his hair, then walks to the other side of the table. Jongin keeps his eyes glued to the material he's studying and nothing else.

This feels different from studying with Joonmyun. For one, he has to share a much smaller space with Joonmyun and he can rest his feet on the chair opposite his, but the music is neither soothing nor enough to fuel him to power through so many pages of readings. Joonmyun's soft humming is strangely calming yet stimulating to the brain, for some reason. And he knows he'll sound crazy, but sometimes Jongin can feel the cogwheels in his mind turning, _really turning_ , picking up pace when Joonmyun hits a particularly high note or starts bobbing his head to the tune he's humming.

Chanyeol doesn't look anything like Joonmyun, either, with his big grins and bright eyes. Jongin's accustomed to careful glances through the slits of the bangs and soft touches on the wrist. Jongin isn't accustomed to Chanyeol's expression turning from happy to shocked and then disappointment in a blink of an eye.

Jongin crinkles his eyebrows and cocks his head at Chanyeol. Chanyeol shakes his head in response and mouths, _Study. You have a test tomorrow._ He doesn't know that yet. He doesn't know if Chanyeol has some sort of power to convince Jongin's professors to give his class a test, either. He follows Chanyeol's instructions, nonetheless, even when Kyungsoo walks inside the club room with wide eyes that shoot up one second, then fix on the floor the next.

The next thing Jongin feels is familiar fingers ruffling his hair, then hot breath on the back of his neck. He hits pause on his music player, then, and looks to his side, jerking back when he finds Joonmyun's face too close for comfort.

This feels a lot like comfort, though, like Joonmyun's apologizing for not being around to study with Jongin, for being _away._ "Better memorize those white balance combinations if you want to please Jonghyun-sonsaengnim," Joonmyun whispers. His lips brush against the back of Jongin's ear as he continues, "He might give you a scenario and ask you to color-correct that in your mind."

Jongin twists his torso, then, looking up at Joonmyun with a scowl on his lips. " _What?_ "

Joonmyun pulls away in time, taking a few steps back, and bumps into Baekhyun. Baekhyun rests his hands on Joonmyun's waist and Joonmyun's shoulders fall back when his back hits Baekhyun's chest. It almost looks… intimate, feels like Jongin isn't supposed to be looking at _them_ and should stick to studying, instead. It feels like taking a punch to the gut, and another, and then another, until he's writhing on the floor and yelling into the great void, _help me!_ An upsound of dramatic music. Fade to black.

But this isn't a movie with a script that Jongin can't change. So Jongin clears his throat and asks, "Are you serious, hyung?" in an attempt to regain his… composure? He hasn't lost it, has he? He's not sure. What he is sure of is that his voice cracked somewhere along the way, between 'serious' and 'hyung'. And it's making Joonmyun laugh a little.

"Only because he wants his students to be the best," Joonmyun replies. Baekhyun snakes his hands around Joonmyun's waist, then, and Jongin doesn't even try to fight his smile from tugging down as he bites the inside of his cheek. Baekhyun rests his chin on Joonmyun's shoulder and Jongin's positive he can hear Joonmyun whispering, _will you stop that?_ Joonmyun's features say otherwise, though – he's still smiling. He can even be grinning, what with the corners of his eyes crinkling.

"Torturing them to be the best, you mean," Kyungsoo adds. He slips beside Chanyeol then hands him a stick of gum. Chanyeol takes it, then hands it over to Jongin.

"If it gets the job done!" Joonmyun answers, then pushes himself forward, slowly wiggling out of Baekhyun's embrace. There's no hint of disgruntlement in Baekhyun's features. That stupid smile is still on his lips and Jongin wants to punch it out of his face. And Joonmyun might be on his side, after all, when Joonmyun socks Baekhyun in the gut with his elbow when Baekhyun reaches out to ticket Joonmyun in the neck. "And it gets the job done, alright."

"I guess I'll be studying with Zitao, then!" Jongin declares. He turns to his side to thank Kyungsoo and Chanyeol for the gum, then gathers his things that he's littered on the study desk before stuffing the books inside his bad. "He digs that cinematography shit. He's into the white color balance thing–"

Joonmyun inches closer, reaching out. Jongin keeps his eyes on the poor excuse of a system of organization in his bad. "White balance, Jongin. But hey, you don't have to–"

"Nah, I'm good. I just–" He looks at the wall clock, then at his things. He's only been here for thirty minutes, maybe even less. He can drop by later to render an hour of residency but not with Baekhyun around. Baekhyun makes his insides turn and not in a Joonmyun way. Not that there's supposed to be a 'Joonmyun way' of making his stomach lurch in several different directions. "I just really need to focus right now because the test is tomorrow and I can't flunk that–"

"But– You don't flunk exams," Joonmyun reasons.

"There's a first time for everything, hyung," Jongin says with finality. He zips up his bag, then turns to Joonmyun with the best smile he can muster. He's sure it looks nothing like a smile. A scowl, maybe, but he hopes Joonmyun's having one of those tough days again that he can't tell a smile from a frown. "So I have to work hard so that there won't be a first time for me to fail an exam."

He walks out of the room as fast as he can and shuts the door behind him. He isn't even sure if he hasn't left anything on the table. He can always return for that later, much later, when all of them are gone and Jongin can get his much-needed peace and quiet in the club room.

When there's no Joonmyun and Baekhyun to distract them with their weird ways and make his chest ache for reasons he can't comprehend yet.

♬ ♬ ♬

"I hate him," Jongin grumbles as he pops three pieces of Combos in his mouth. "I hate his face, his voice, his smile, his _everything!_ "

Zitao sneaks a glance at him before turning to look back down on his DS. He's almost through to the Pokemon League, but he's leveling up his Pokemon some more because _I can't risk it. I don't want any of them to die just because I was too excited to beat the game._ There's merit in waiting it out, Jongin thinks – he gets to watch Zitao pummel one Pokemon after another to the ground using his team, and he gets to eat all the Combos in his bag instead of sharing it with Zitao because doesn't like getting food all over his gadgets.

He takes two pieces and slips it between Zitao's lips, anyway. He's violating the sacred rule of whining about non-school things while playing, after all. The least he could do is to share a piece of happiness with Zitao while talking his head off.

"Okay. First off, I'm glad you're making progress," Zitao mumbles. He groans for a moment and Jongin looks at the screen from over Zitao's shoulder – his Swellow's down after taking a critical hit from a Stone Edge. Man, that must have been tough. Zitao recovers quickly, though, continuing, "I mean I'm glad you've finally admitted to yourself that you hate Baekhyun-hyung."

"Not… That's too strong a word," Jongin mumbles. "I hate what he's _doing_ , not his entirety. Like, I can hate his face without hating his fingers right? He has nice fingers."

Zitao snorts. "You said so, yourself – _I hate him!_ " Zitao does his best Jongin impersonation that sounds more like a wailing Jongin than anything else. Jongin wonders how accurate that it, given the situation. Maybe 70%. "Question is, why? I mean, it's not as if he's taking your Joonmyun-hyung away from you–"

"He is _not_ mine," Jongin grumbles. Zitao keeps stuffing words in his mouth; it's annoying. Not as annoying as Baekhyun, though. "I just don't like how he's so–"

"Touchy. With _your_ Joonmyun-hyung. And he's yours because you're his self-proclaimed _number one fan._ " Zitao drawls out the last bit and really, if Jongin wasn't in Zitao's flat at the moment, he'd have socked Zitao with his elbow and tackled him to the floor. "Look, it's so obvious that you're jealous because he gets to touch Joonmyun-hyung like that and you can't. So why not try to hug hyung?"

"Because there's no reason to?" Jongin argues. "Because I don't just go around hugging people I hardly know? Tao, you know what I mean–" He huffs, then blows at his bangs. This only results in the sharp tips of the strands poking his eyes. Now _this_ is more annoying that Baekhyun because his hair isn't supposed to be against him. He feels a bit betrayed. "I dunno, it's just so unprofessional to be cuddling in the club room and all, in front of your friends."

Zitao looks up one last time before saving his game, then turning off the console. For a moment, Jongin contemplates on making Zitao load the game again because watching Zitao play helps him make the voices in his head shut up. There always has to be something, an external force that he has no control over, to help him get through some rocky stages in his life. Or rocky paths, at least, because it's not as if he has an 'era' dedicated to the people who have occupied a significant amount of space is his heart. Sehun era, Joonmyun era – they sound foolish. And Jongin didn't get into K-ARTS because he's stupid.

He heaves a sigh. He has to learn how to get over his own self alone. He can't resort to seeking help from other people all the time. It's inconvenient, and the last thing he wants is to drive people away with the same brand of inconvenience he's making them deal with.

"Tell me – if you caught someone else doing that in the club room," Zitao begins. He shifts in his seat on the bed, then continues, "Would you have felt this bad?"

Bad isn't the best word to describe how he's feeling at the moment. He feels like… he's been cheated on. Like some douche played with his emotions and laughed at him to add salt to the wound. Except there's no betrayal involved, no cheating nor sin involved in whatever Jongin is feeling. Baekhyun and Joonmyun were just being themselves. It just so happens that Jongin's threshold for romance in club rooms is so low, it's hilarious. So in essence, he's just making his own life miserable by feeling all these emotions.

Jongin buries his face in his hands. "I don't feel bad. I feel stupid because I don't understand what's happening to me." He can't even bring himself to use Combos as a happy treat anymore. "I feel so _stupid!_ "

Zitao moves closer, snatching the bag of Combos from him and rubbing his hand on Jongin's back. "You're not stupid. You're one of the smartest people I know," he whispers. He's using that _oh no, don't cry_ voice of his. Jongin wants to assure Zitao that he won't, the he hadn't even thought about it until Zitao mentioned it. He's not that kind of person. But Zitao's hand is so warm and the steady circles he's tracing on Jongin's back make him choke on his voice just a little. And maybe his eyes feel a bit wet but _no,_ he's not crying. His eyes are just… feeling things. Stupid things for not-stupid people like him.

"For all you know, Baekhyun-hyung's just a flirt and Joonmyun-hyung's just too nice to turn him down," Zitao offers.

"Baekhyun-hyung _is_ a flirt," Jongin groans. He's sure his voice is being muffled by the press of his lips to his palms, but whatever. "Worst part if that Joonmyun-hyung is just as flirty."

Zitao snorts. "What? Joonmyun-hyung, flirty? I…" He laughs a little, and by not Jongin can feel the light vibrations of Zitao's laughter through the press of Zitao's palm on his shirt. "I dunno, man. That sounds kinda hard to believe. Joonmyun-hyung has the flirting skills of a baby penguin."

 _Baby penguins are cute,_ Jongin wants to argue, but decides against it. "He is," he says, instead, doesn't tell Zitao about all those times Joonmyun let his touch linger, let his gaze trace the swell of Jongin's lips or let his fingers trace the curve of Jongin's cheeks. And the way Joonmyun's pulse throbs so strongly against Jongin's skin that Jongin can't help but think sometimes that Joonmyun's going through the same monologue in his mind, maybe even worse.

They stay in comfortable silence after a while, and Jongin lets himself fall flat on his back on Zitao's bed. Zitao follows suit, his knuckles brushing against Jongin's own. If this were Joonmyun beside him then he'd feel sparks at the tips of his fingers now, or he'd be frozen all over without any hope of being thawed. If this were Sehun beside him then he'd be counting the seconds until Sehun rolled out of bed to draw the covers over then and snuggle up to Jongin. Because the best of friends do that, even after one of them had accidentally confessed a year or two ago that he might have liked the other a bit too much, might've thought of kissing the other but didn't push through with it because, _I may be delusional but I do still know you, y'know? And I know you'd kick me out of your bed if I did that. I needed the bed._

"What do you think?" Jongin asks after a while. He doesn't that when he's out of options, when he can't think straight anymore even if he _has_ to. Part of him wants to answer, _You know what's happening, Jongin. You just keep telling yourself that it's not true._ The other half wants to say, _Do you really have to ask?_ Sometimes you need to hear it from someone else for it to sound more real. So that it will be easier for you to convince yourself that you're not just being some impulsive boy feeling all warm and fuzzy inside when your crush touches you, and feeling weird and restless and so damn unsettled when your crush touches someone else.

"Do you want me to be honest or do you want me to tell you what you want to hear?"

Jongin chuckles, then rolls over to his side to move closer to Zitao. He stops, putting a few good inches between them, giving Zitao the option to sink or swim. "The first. I think I need a wake-up call or something."

Zitao laughs a little and inches closer, then wraps his arms around Jongin's body. "What you need is a hug and to stop… well, stopping yourself from feeling things. It's bad, y'know?"

"It's unproductive," Jongin groans.

"Also, leaves a bad taste in the mouth." Zitao ends with some sound resembling puking. It sounds like weird laughter, instead. "So just accept that you like Joonmyun-hyung. It will make things easier, I guess?"

 _How?_ How will things be easier to digest once he accepts that he _does_ feel more than that weird idol-crushing thing for Joonmyun? That won't stop him from feeling weird things and getting the urge to punch Baekhyun in the face at the slightest touch between the two. That won't stop him from wanting to stare at Joonmyun the whole day and looking forward to residency hours because then he can study _and_ be with Joonmyun at the same time; it's like shooting birds with one stone. But acceptance won't give Jongin that same skill to shoot down his bad urges and bed urges. It _won't_ help at all.

"And then? Then what?" He laughs a little. It sounds a bit scratchy, but then he'd half-assed the sound earlier. He knows Zitao can tell – Zitao's giving his back a light pound with his fist now. If Zitao did that out of the blue then he gets a free pass to socking Zitao in the gut. Maybe later. "It's not as if I can demand more of his time if I do that. Or, or–" He lets out a loud exhale. "He has Baekhyun-hyung, okay? What if I just stop wallowing in misery and finish Omega Ruby without him? That'll help. At least Pokemon will always be there to make my day better."

"Now _that's_ stupid," Zitao whispers. "You said so, yourself – you made a promise and you don't break promises. So… I dunno, man. Just– Try to look the other way whenever the two act all lovey-dovey. Or jump ship and join a new org. That would make things easier."

"Sounds like running away," Jongin argues. "Looks bad. Pathetic. I'll just suck it up and hope he'll stop liking Pokemon so I won't feel bad about wanting to exact revenge by finishing Ruby."

Zitao pulls away for a moment, looking at him with a steady gaze. "Man, you've got it bad," he says. "Really bad. Like, Team Rocket kind of bad."

"If it's that bad then I'm a goner. Team Rocket's a bunch of losers."

"Nice losers," Zitao corrects. He blows air at Jongin's hair with his nose pressed to the crown, then says, "But losers, nonetheless."

Jongin isn't sure how that's supposed to make him feel better, so he just buries his face in Zitao's chest. The fit is awkward, but it's comfortable enough to not put a strain on his back. It's comfortable enough that he finds himself falling asleep in the warmth of Zitao's bed, then waking up in the same position without any muscle pains. He gets up, then, seals the bag of Combos, and scribbles a message on one of Zitao's sticky notes. He makes sure to tack it to Zitao's forehead before he leaves.

He takes a deep breath and hauls his bag over his shoulder, then, and eases the creases on his shirt. Nodding his head, he makes his way back to the club room, hoping to see something better and get something done, for real.

♬ ♬ ♬

The deluge of requirements for school couldn't have come at a better time. With only three weeks until midterms, all the students are swamped with work again. Jongin has gotten the timing down by now, or so he'd like to think – two weeks of 'downtime' a.k.a. two to three assignments the whole week, then a week of preparation before going to war. There's always something happening at the end of every month – big exams, practicals, pre-midterms, whatever that shit is supposed to mean – and he isn't exactly surprised. He's in school, after all, and what are students expected to do here? Study, of course.

Render five hours of residency every week, as well, but Jongin has been choosing odd hours recently. He still runs into Joonmyun from time to time, but often it's Soojung and Kyungsoo who he ends up having to share the club room with. And both are very effective study buddies. The rule among the three of them is to not talk unless there's imminent danger. That involves grumbling stomachs and unexpected phone calls.

"Shit," Kyungsoo curses under his breath. He raises his phone in the air and Jongin catches Baekhyun's picture on the screen. "I have to take this outside. Hey, yeah, Baek, what's– What the _fuck?_ What do you mean we're– Ugh, I'm going to kill him!"

So six in the evening on a Thursday sees Kyungsoo scurrying out of the club room, dragging his bag behind him and swearing upon whatever gods there are that he's going to maim a certain Kim Jongdae for screwing up his project with Baekhyun. Kyungsoo doesn't forget to wave a hand over his shoulder, though, despite the frustration, and Soojung only shakes her head in response.

"Jongdae-oppa was part of the broadcasting club before. He had to drop the membership and focus on choir because he's being primed to be the next choir lead _and_ he's rehearsing for the upcoming musical," Soojung narrates. Her lips are still slightly parted so Jongin waits for a follow up, or at least a bit of explanation on what the musical is. "Same week as midterm week. Since that's the only time their coach is available to supervise the presentation. It's… pretty tough."

Jongin takes a deep breath and nods. He cracks his knuckles. "Sometimes I'm glad that I'm not good at those stuff. I'm only ever good at academics."

Soojung laughs a little. "I wanted to do the musical, but–" She lets out a loud exhale. "Maybe next semester. It's hard to ease back into the swing of things _and_ busy myself with extra-curriculars. Broadcasting club's pretty relaxed, compared to other communications clubs." She snorts. "Well, when it's not Broadcasting Week, at least."

"Oh yeah," Jongin mentions. "When's that, by the way."

"Two weeks from now."

"Two weeks from–" He widens his eyes at Soojung and cocks his head to the side. "Why aren't we preparing yet? Why are not even talking about it? Why–" He pauses the track playing on his iPod and removes his headphones. Good thing he isn't wearing his glasses today or he would've done something to it already. "We only have two weeks left – we _have_ to do something!"

Soojung erupts into a peal of laughter this time, like two weeks is enough time to come up with something great. It isn't. Or maybe it is, but Jongin isn't sure if he can pull it off without driving himself crazy and ending up as a sobbing mess at the end of the week. At least there are five other club members to commiserate with him, but still! Soojung interrupts his internal panicking by holding up a hand in front of him and facing him with a smile. "Relax," she says, then laughs a little. "Joonmyun-hyung's probably coming up with a plan right now. He's good at that. And he doesn't like it when people meddle in his 'serious broadcasting business'."

 _He doesn't like it when people meddle–_ Soojung's voice trails off in Jongin's mind right after that word. It makes sense – a person with a secret identity he's been trying to push to the very back of people's minds won't appreciate people breathing down his neck just to get things done. Joonmyun likes to do things _his way,_ no matter how unorthodox his means may be. Still, Jongin can't help but feel a bit antsy. Rushing things has only ever brought bad results upon him.

"So we just wait?" Jongin asks.

"Yes, we just have to wait. And be blown away but whatever plans he has in store for the week-long celebration."

 _Sounds like a week-long hell,_ Jongin wants to say. That will fall on the week before midterms and damn if Jongin doesn't die with the amount of work he has to do. Still, the prospect of boarding alongside Joonmyun, sharing the booth with him again – it excites him. It also makes his insides turn and makes him more hungry than he should be. It hasn't even been that long since he's last eaten something.

"I dunno. It makes me nervous," he confesses. He scratches the surface of his book then looks up at Soojung, meeting her gaze. "I'm bad with improvisation and stuff. Plans make me feel warm and cozy."

Soojung shoots him a sharp gaze. "Well, this isn't about feeling _warm and cozy._ " She reaches out and flicks a finger at Jongin's nose. "It's about challenging ourselves and recommending great music in the process. And that's why you're here in the broadcasting club, right? Because there's a message that you want to relay through communicating with a huge audience?"

 _Yes, and no,_ he wants to say. He's here to be a cool DJ and follow the steps of his idol, $uho. But then Joonmyun destroyed that cool and perfect (save for the outfit, really) image of $uho in his mind with his warm smile and his soft giggles. And of course, the feather-light touches and the sidelong glances. He still doesn't get it. Either Joonmyun's just really good at watching his words but not his hands, or he has difficulty expressing himself outside the booth. That would make sense – not all comedians are happy and bubbly all the time, after all.

"I suppose," he replies. He takes a deep breath and looks back down at his reading material. The thing just won't end, but then there's a reason why it's called 'The History of Film'. _Jesus, Jongin, some common sense?_ "I guess there's nothing we can do about it, huh? Nothing to do but to wait?"

He catches Soojung's soft laughter through the rustling of pages. "Nothing to do but to wait, indeed," Soojung echoes. She plugs in her earphones after that. Nickelback blasts from her earphones and Jongin fears for Soojung's hearing for a moment.

He falls asleep halfway through the last bit of his reading for his History of Film class and doing some online practice color correction exams. He's cheating, really – he's pretty sure the selective color tool in Photoshop doesn't work _exactly_ the same way as white balance in film does – but practice is still practice. The most important thing is that he has the principle of canceling out excess hues of color on a composition by applying a layer of its complementary color on it down. Everything else will follow. All other information will come to him once he's faced with a situation where he has to salvage poor lighting.

Like an indoor shot with yellow lighting in the evening, Jongin muses as something beeps in the background and the door swings forward. The subject is wearing a bright shade of red that makes him look ten times better than the usual, but makes the composition look warmer than it should. The smile on his lips isn't helping, only makes it more impossible to add a layer of cool color to tone down the warm hues. But Joonmyun isn't the type to be deterred from shining just by a few layers of blue or white light. He's _above_ that. He's every difficult color to fix in any composition, the toughest test ever. The toughest nut to crack and the cookie to break.

"My mother sent me oatmeal cookies," Joonmyun announces when he arrives. He places the basket on his desk and takes three pieces, individually packed, then hands one to Soojung. He turns to Jongin with a small smile and bright eyes. _Daylight. I need daylight white balance on this one,_ Jongin muses.

Joonmyun's hands him the cookie and Joonmyun hooks the pads of his fingers of the side of Jongin's palm, not willing to – let go of Jongin's hand? Let go of the cookie and let Jongin eat it in peace? He can't tell. All the knows is that Joonmyun's fingers are cold and that his touch stings. Pricks his skin. Makes his insides turn.

"And I finally catch you here," Joonmyun says. He releases Jongin's hand from his hold but reaches out to cup Jongin's cheek with his other hand, pinching it. "Haven't seen you around in a while."

In a while means a few days, give or take. Jongin just discovered that he's acquired two skills since he's met Joonmyun in the flesh: 1) superior stalking skills; and 2) superior hiding skills. He'd make a great ninja if he wasn't studying. Maybe a change in career is in order.

"Busy. With stuff," Jongin mumbles. He tucks his chin in his neck and looks down, but Joonmyun tilts his own head and follows his gaze. "Lots of homework to do."

Joonmyun chuckles. "Yeah. Midterm week is just around the corner."

Soojung is blessedly quiet, but Jongin can't tell right now if that _is_ indeed a blessing or a curse. He can't hear his voice above the loud thumping in his chest, it's stilly. Joonmyun doesn't seem to mind, takes the empty seat beside Jongin's and makes himself comfortable there. Jongin knows that Joonmyun almost always prefers to study in his own desk because all his things are already there; still, he chooses to join them this time. His knees bump into Jongin's own and Jongin catches the light jerk of Joonmyun's body at the collision. He can feel a jolt of electricity shoot up his thighs, make the pulse at the back of his knees stronger.

"Do you need help with anything?" Joonmyun asks, inching closer to where Jongin is.

Jongin feels every part of his stiffen. His fingers are numb and his eyes are wide and he can't tear them away from the material even if he wants to, _if he really wants to._ There's a danger in losing focus and looking to his side to meet Joonmyun's gaze because he knows how this will pan out – Joonmyun will attempt to help him and explain a few things here and there, but Jongin's brain will always go back to the heat of their pressed thighs, to Joonmyun's breath hot and sticky along the curve of his neck. He'd hit a downward spiral after that. Then he'll regret everything in the morning because he has ten more pages to power through before he can slack of and, maybe, grab something to eat again.

Joonmyun makes his body go into this weird state where everything's just wrong and wanting. Like there's something lacking – in his brain or in his stomach, sometimes both. And sometimes in his chest, as well, like there's a huge hole in there somewhere that's waiting for something to fill it with warmth. Joonmyun's warm hands on his chest will do. Jongin isn't picky. Joonmyun will always be his first pick.

 _Dammit, Jongin! Focus!_ he tells himself for the last time. "Nah, I'm good," he tells Joonmyun, then stares at the text again. He doesn't put on his headphones because that will be a dismissal. He needs to concentrate, not drive the source of distraction away. Beside, Joonmyun's warm hand on his thigh is soothing in its own way. As long as it doesn't dip between his thighs or inside his pants, he's good.

He feels his dick twitch in his pants. _Nope. Not good. Okay. Tungsten versus fluorescent white balance–_ He runs through the opening line at least thrice before he manages to progress. And Joonmyun pulls away after a while, hugs his knees to his chest, and rests his cheek there before closing his eyes.

 _Don't look,_ he reminds himself, then reads the line in his reading that he's at out loud in his mind so that he'll remember what he came here for. He powers through a few more pages and almost falls asleep at the last once, but manages to finish. Once he's done, he skims through the pages one last time, stopping at the highlighted text. He scribbles some key words on his notebook that he can quiz himself with minutes before the exam just to be sure; writing things down has always helped him memorize easier.

Soojung leaves the club room at nine in the evening, and urges Jongin to do the same. "Want me to call Chanyeol-oppa so he can pick up Joonmyun-oppa?" she asks before leaving, and Jongin only shakes his head and mumbles that he can do that, himself. He _does_ have Chanyeol's contact number, after all, and he'd like to have a few minutes to himself just to watch the steady rise and fall of Joonmyun's shoulders, the tiny jerks of his body when his eyes begin to move rapidly beneath his eyelids. He loves Joonmyun's soft whimpers, as well, soft sounds slipping from Joonmyun's lips as he shifts a little in his seat then falls right into a peaceful slumber.

He leans closer, stopping when there's only three inches between their noses. He can feel the heat of Joonmyun's breath on his lips, can hear Joonmyun's breathing noisily through his nose, then letting out a hiccup somewhere along the way. He laughs a little and reaches out, wanting to tuck the hair that has fallen on Joonmyun's face, but Joonmyun moves again, eyes slowly fluttering open this time. He digs his hands in his back pockets, then, watching as Joonmyun rouses from his sleep little by little.

"Hey," Joonmyun whispers. His voice is thick with sleep and fatigue, but the soft smile on his lips makes the words tumble out easier. Sound clearer. He looks around then squints at where the clock is. Once he finally gets a better look at the clock, he looks up at Jongin and says, "You didn't have to stay behind."

"I was just planning to leave," Jongin reasons. He stands up straight, drawing his shoulders back, then extends a hand in Joonmyun's direction. "Get up, hyung. We should be heading back to the dorms now."

"Soojung?"

"Went back a few minutes ago," Jongin replies. He hears the sound of Joomyun's stomach grumbling. "Or d'you want to buy food first before going back? Caf's open until ten, anyway."

Joonmyun nods, eyes still heavy with lethargy. He stretches his arms over his head, smacking Jongin in the face. He cups Jongin's cheeks overhead, then, and looks up, throwing his head back so he can get a better view of Jongin. "'Hmmsorry. You okay?"

 _Not now. Now anymore,_ Jongin wants to say. Joonmyun's palms are so soft on his skin and _shit_ , Jongin would do anything for Joonmyun to suddenly do a 360 and decide to pull Jongin's face down to give him a kiss. It's the perfect set up – Joonmyun hit Jongin in his nose and the best way to appease Jongin is by 'kissing the bubu away'. That means Joonmyun kissing the tip of Jongin's nose. If he ends up liking it, he can move further south, down to the bow of Jongin's lips, and then he can catch Jongin's bottom lip between his teeth. Then Joonmyun can kiss Jongin until he tastes nothing like Baekhyun anymore, until Jongin can taste himself in Joonmyun's mouth. Until his jaw gives out and he feels a dull ache in his muscles.

He won't have any regrets in the morning, he's sure of that.

But Joonmyun doesn't do any of those. Instead, he just kind of stares at Jongin, still sleepy-eyed, the smile on his lips so tender and warm. "I said, are you okay?" Joonmyun repeats. Jongin gulps hard in response. When he doesn't say anything, Joonmyun pulls him down by his cheeks and gives them a light pinch. "Hey. Talk to me. You can't avoid me all night long, you know?"

 _I can,_ Jongin wants to say. But he doesn't. Instead, he blurts out, "Why does it matter?"

Joonmyun blinks a few times and Jongin figures his vision's returned to its normal focus. He's squinting, like he's trying to search Jongin's face for clues. Or maybe his eyesight's just even shittier when he's just woken up. That's normal, Jongin muses. Slowly, Joonmyun traces circles on the swell of Jongin's cheeks. "It matters because I like talking to you. You make me feel at ease."

 _Well, at least one of us feels at ease in the presence of the other,_ a voice the back of Jongin's mind says. Jongin wishes he can be just as eloquent, but a sharp tongue has never been Jongin's style. "I've just been busy," Jongin mumbles, instead. He rests his palms on Joonmyun's and continues, "I'm sorry. I've been thinking about a lot of things these past few days."

Joonmyun cocks an eyebrow and lets out a faint _huh?_ under his breath. "Is something bothering you?" Joonmyun asks, voice still scratchy and heavy with sleep. Jongin can't decide yet if he loves the tone, but he does like how it sounds – like Joonmyun is really worried, like he _does_ want to know if something is bothering Jongin and that he'd like to help out. "You can always talk to me, if it helps."

 _It doesn't. It won't. It never will._ "Nah, it's– I'm good."

"You always say that when you aren't," Joonmyun replies. He gives one of Jongin's cheeks a light pinch. Jongin tries to stop him, but only succeeds in slipping his fingers between Joonmyun's own. "You're shit at bluffing, just saying."

Jongin laughs a little. "That's the first time I heard you say 'shit', hyung."

Joonmyun chuckles in accord, but his voice is still thick with sleep. He chokes on the fourth _ha_ , wheezes. His grip on Jongin's face is steady, though. "Well, there's a first time for everything."

And it's true, Jongin supposes – there's a first time for him to come to class five minutes late and that's because he overslept. There's a first time for him to not get a score above the 75% mark. There's a first time for him to feel like jumping and squealing _and yet_ feel like he's being torn apart, and that what _this_ is. This – Joonmyun cupping his cheeks and looking at him like he's the only thing, the only person that matters in the world – it feels like feeling hungry again after pigging out before class. And fighting the urge to give in to the temptation of falling asleep.

It feels like a combination of things, but it also feels like winning when Joonmyun laughs a little, out of things to say, and whispers, "You're cute."

Jongin drops his hands to his side, fingers tracing a line along the length of Joonmyun's outstretched arms. Joonmyun pulls away after a while, but not without a light pinch the cheeks. "C'mon, let's grab something to eat," Joonmyun says, then stands from his seat. He straightens out his polo like he hasn't just cupped Jongin's face earlier and given Jongin an excuse to kiss him.

So Jongin says, "Your treat, hyung?" because that's the only way he can get back at Joonmyun for making him feel this way. "Because I'm not coming if you aren't buying."

Joonmyun rolls his eyes and slings an arm around Jongin's shoulder, saying, "Fine, fine. Anything for my favorite." Jongin tries not to freeze, not when their bodies are pressed so close like this. Instead, he focuses on the steady beating of Joonmyun's pulse on his arm, their even breathing, and their feet falling into step with each other.

♬ ♬ ♬

Joonmyun gathers the club members for a meeting on what they'll be doing for broadcasting week. It isn't anything fancy – they're doing the same old all-day-long broadcast complete with phone-in questions and taking song requests, which will be easier since they're using KKT for calls now and Twitter for requests. "Now, what we have to think about, because I'm bad at innovating, is a twist," Joonmyun tells them. "I've got the entire schedule mapped out, but we at least need to have a theme for our shows. Are we preparing them for summer? Are we… trying to help them get through midterms?"

"We did that last year," Kyungsoo offers, frowning. "I'm all for themed programs but we can't pull off the midterm salvation program again. How about using 'decades' as the delineation?"

Baekhyun snorts. "I'm not sure if some people will appreciate _your_ kind of music, Soo–"

"I like old songs," Joonmyun interrupts. There isn't anything different with the way the corners of his lips curl up into a smile, but his gaze is sharp, piercing, _taunting._ "Hmm. That's… a pretty good suggestion. Anything else?"

"Seconding the decades suggestion," Jongin says as he raises a hand in agreement. "We might run out too quickly if we play themed songs. But–" The strangest idea hits his mind, and he turns to Joonmyun with a grin that he guesses looks weird because the smile on Joonmyun's lips has turned into a mash-up between a frown and a scowl. "What if we ask the listeners for the soundtrack of their life? That way, we can… I dunno, touch a lot of things? Their love lives, school lives, extra-curricular or something lives, family woes, if any–"

Joonmyun cocks an eyebrow, and the tight corners of his lips quirk up. "That's a very interesting suggestion. Just– Just one program, right? We can… mix that up with the decades suggestion."

Chanyeol flashes two thumbs up, and Soojung nods in agreement. "I like the 'soundtrack of your life' theme for a program," Soojung comments. "I know a lot of people who have a playlist in their iPods just for that. It's like an extension of your life, forward _and_ backward."

Jongin laughs a little. The sad reality is that most of the songs in the soundtrack of _his_ life are about pining, unrequited love, falling in love with your best friend and realizing that you're so stupid for being so hung up on him for a decade already. It's _that_ bad. "I know a few people in class who's send requests," Jongin mentions. "I'm just… not sure how the professors will take students tweeting in class."

Joonmyun shrugs, taking a deep breath and he lets out the air in his lungs in soft laughter. "There will always be a student who doesn't have class at any point of the day." He pushes himself off his seat and stands up straight, locking his arms in front of him. "I guess it's just a matter of the students just being extra careful when tweeting us things."

"Make sure they use the correct hashtag," Kyungsoo says as a reminder. "You know people. They find it hard to follow instructions most of the time." He turns to look at Baekhyun when he ends, an eyebrow raised and a corner of his lips tugged up in the tiniest smile. Baekhyun groans at him. It makes Jongin feel like dancing, but he knows better than to proclaim to the entire group that he's taking pleasure in Baekhyun's 'misery'. So instead, he hums and cracks his knuckles because that's what he normally does when he can't find the right words to say.

Then the image of Joonmyun sitting opposite him flashes before his eyes, an image of Joonmyun cracking his neck, then stretching his arms in front of him, then crackling his knuckles. Then Joonmyun would look up at him through the slits of his bangs and ask, _Is everything okay, Jongin?_

"Hey," Soojung says, nudging Jongin in the side. "Have you even been getting any sleep? We lost you again."

Jongin blinks a few times, trying to refocus his vision, and resurfaces with a nod. When he looks up, he meets Joonmyun's gaze – searching, assessing. He mumbles, "I'm good. I'm alive."

So the start of broadcasting week has Jongin running from his last class for the day straight to the club room. He navigates his way through narrow corridors, his favorite shortcut, and crosses the bridge between the Film and Broadcasting building. He swipes his ID at the door and off comes the lock. It takes all of his control to not apply too much force on the knob when he twists it, and he takes a peek inside before swinging the door all the way forward.

"They're inside," says a girl, someone Jongin recalls as one of Soojung's classmates – Sunyoung, that's her name. "You're Kim Jongin, right?"

Jongin nods and says, "Mhmm."

"Park Sunyoung. I… think Soojung introduced us to each other before." She gives Jongin a warm smile. "Ten minutes 'til you board. You should be getting ready."

Jongin takes a deep breath, then presses his lips thinly together. He leaves his bag on the couch near Joonmyun's own and exhales loudly when he sees no red cardigan in sight. He contemplates on bringing his phone with him, but then he won't have a use for that when he's manning the booth and calling the shots. Joonmyun said last night that there might be a chance that he'll board alone, and that _don't worry, it will be alright. I have faith in you, Jonginnie._

 _Jonginnie._ Jongin's breath hitches. He clears his throat, trying to ease the knots in his muscles, then makes his way to the booth. "Wish me luck."

Sunyoung gives him a thumbs-up and whispers, "Break a leg!"

Jongin will _never_ get used to this narrow passageway from the main room to the booth. It's like entering a new world, an entirely different universe. He always has to hold his breath when he turns the knob and steps inside, as if in an attempt to pay respect to the machinery and equipment in the room. The microphones, the equalizers, the mixers, all these tools that they use to capture sound with – they're not just _things._ They're their partners in getting their message across.

He twists the knob and pushes the door forward, trying to not make any noise. When he peeks inside, he finds Chanyeol controlling the computer and the equalizer on this side of the booth, while Baekhyun and Soojung engage in a friendly banter on the other side.

"Weird combination, isn't it?" comes a familiar voice. All too soon, Jongin feels the tension in his shoulders lift, and at the same time feels his stomach lurch in several different directions. _You've got to make up your mind,_ he tells himself. _You can't be caught in the crossfire all the fucking time–_ "Their show trended earlier, though. I kinda want them to team up on the last day again. Might help bring our ratings up."

Chanyeol chuckles, and Joonmyun sticks out his tongue in Chanyeol's direction. To Jongin, he says, "And by ratings, I mean the trends. I'm just… imagining this as a real station with real programs and real rating targets."

Jongin shakes his head and laughs, but he's careful to keep the sounds he makes to a bare minimum. "So, are we aiming for the top trend in Seoul, hyung?" he asks, an eyebrow raised. He tries to keep the smile on his lips small and tight, careful to not give away the excitement too easily, but Joonmyun seems to catch it when he reaches up to poke Jongin's cheek.

"Don't make promises you can't keep, Jongin," Joonmyun whispers, then drops his hand to his side. He turns to face the two again, and when Jongin does the same and leans against the wall of the booth, he finds Baekhyun staring at him, eyes sharp and void of the same glimmer of laughter that his voice has.

Baekhyun and Soojung wrap up their program with a Boyce Avenue and Alex Goot collaboration of a Beatles cover. The lyrics get drowned in the laughter and the congratulations. Jongin gives Soojung a pat on the back, then gives Baekhyun a high-five when their eyes meet. "Congrats for trending, hyung. First program of ours to reach the top ten, right?"

Something flickers in Baekhyun's eyes for a moment and then it's gone, replaced instead by a look of surprise. "Uh, yeah. First trend since the morning." He looks away, fixing his eyes on his shoes, then adds, "Though to be fair, it _is_ the longest program today so I guess it's just–"

"Hey, you did well," Joonmyun offers. He gives Baekhyun's hair a gentle fluff, then lets his fingers catch on its strands as he slides his hand down to rest on Baekhyun's shoulder. "Never thought you'd have chemistry with Soojung."

From a corner of Jongin's eye, he sees Soojung craning her neck. Chanyeol proves to be a good distraction, though, circling an arm around her shoulder and nuzzling the crown of her hair. Her cheeks are a light shade of pink. Baekhyun's are, too.

"See? There's merit in… testing out different combinations," Baekhyun replies.

Joonmyun stops, stares for a moment, then brushes his knuckles across Baekhyun's cheek. "Don't be silly. That doesn't apply to everything."

Baekhyun and Soojung excuse themselves after a while. Chanyeol stays a little longer, not leaving until he's checked for the last time if Baekhyun and Soojung's program is still trending. The hashtag has dropped from #4 to #8, but the program ran for three hours and not once did the hashtag drop from the top ten.

"This'll be hard to top, hyung," Chanyeol tells Joonmyun. "Think you can beat that?"

"Joonmyun-hyung? But–" Jongin points at himself, then says, "I thought I was boarding alone? Did the schedule change?"

"Ah, I had to move some things around. I met up with Kim-sonsaengnim early this morning so I can do this program with you," Joonmyun explains, voice lilting like it's _normal_ for him to move his schedule around just for Jongin. It makes Jongin's breath hitch, makes his insides turn all the more. He didn't even think that was still possible. "Unless you don't want to board with me–"

"No, hyung, it's–" Fine. _Perfect._ Everything that he's been asking for really, especially now that the entire school population will hear them – DJs $uho and Kai and their easy volleying of lines on air. He's been waiting for this to happen for _years._ "It's okay. I mean, it's not as if we haven't done this before."

Joonmyun's gaze hasn't waned, not even for a second, and the corners of his eyes crinkle in tandem with the slow-forming smile on his lips. He looks as if he can see right through Jongin or at least see into his brain out, pick out the words that Jongin can't and won't say and form his own meaning out of those words altogether. "Well, good point," Joonmyun says after a while, then wraps his fingers around Jongin's wrist. "We have, haven't we?"

Jongin takes a deep breath at the first contact, at the feeling of Joonmyun's cold fingers on his skin. He remembers, without meaning to, that time when Joonmyun had stared at him for the longest time, like he was expecting Jongin to understand whatever it is that he wasn't saying. Remembers that time when Joonmyun had his knees pressed to Jongin's inner thighs, remembers the fit of their bodies and the gaping lack of warmth when Joonmyun pulled away.

"Yeah, so–" Jongin gulps, then lets Joonmyun lead him to the other side of the booth. "Yeah. Boarding. Together. Sounds good."

Jongin is no stranger to this – it's Joonmyun's opening theme for all of his $uho videos. It's a slightly different version, though – the instrumental hasn't hit the chorus yet, and they're already ten seconds into the intro. It's almost as if Joonmyun stalling this out, still gathering his words or maybe his thoughts. Joonmyun leans closer to the microphone, though, pulling away just a little to wet his lips before parting them to speak.

"Good afternoon, Korea National University of the Arts! It's a nice spring afternoon outside, perfect for a long walk under the sun or maybe just a leisurely stroll down the park." Joonmyun turns to look at Jongin, an eyebrow raised. "Right, partner?"

 _Shit,_ Jongin thinks, they're on-air _and_ live. People can see them, can see their faces, and he can't make the mistake of nipping on his nails or fumbling with the hem of his shirt. The spiel is familiar, though, like they _have_ done this before, in the recent past. Then the memory hits Jongin – his exam for the broadcasting club, boarding alongside Joonmyun for the first time. Experiencing calling out the shots and giving song recommendations for the first time in his life and having to make sure that everything he says is correct and not him shitting on people's facts.

 _You've got this,_ Joonmyun's eyes are saying. _Come on, Jongin, we've done this before–_

"Ah, that's true," Jongin answers. "But the thing is–" He laughs a little. He can't shit on the professors. "–we're here in school, labouring all over academic requirements in preparation for next week. And what do we call that week again? He– What's it called?"

Joonmyun kicks him under the table as if saying, _fuck you, we can't edit that out._ "The passage to heaven, that's what it's called." Joonmyun bites the inside of his cheek to keep himself from laughing. "The best part is that two weeks after, we can can finally get a much-needed rest so we can return to school refreshed–"

"–and ready to tackle whatever life has to throw at us," Jongin finishes. Joonmyun slips a paper in his direction, with a message that says _intro soundtrack of your life then I'll segue to our first song._ Jongin runs through a few lines in his mind but _shit,_ it's hard to come up with something that doesn't sound stilted without dropping a few choice swear words here and there. It gets the message across easier sometimes, expletives. They're the fastest way to say, _I'm having a bad day so don't you even dare talk to me._

"And then you can start over. Play a new track in the soundtrack of your life, or maybe create an entirely new one. Sounds good for a refreshing return to school, yeah? Now while we're on that topic–" He refreshes the Twitter page and spots their hashtag at #10. He pokes Joonmyun in the arm and points at the list. "–do you have any songs that you'd consider part of 'the soundtrack of your life'? Because I know quite a few people who have a theme song for everything. Like, this friend of mine, Tao, he sings a song from Enchanted when he's cleaning his dorm room."

Joonmyun chuckles and tears his gaze from the list of trends. " _Happy Working Song_ is _the best_ working song. It just gets your gears turning and fuels you to clean more things."

"And then you'll fall into this pit of boredom and sing _When Will My Life Begin?_ until you find something new and exciting to do in your life." Jongin takes a deep breath and tries not to freak out when Joonmyun refreshes the Twitter page and he sees their hashtag climb up a spot. "What about you, hyung? Do you have any theme songs for your life? Or, say, studying?"

"Ah…" Joonmyun nods in thought. " _Eye of the Tiger_ is my default studying song. Here's a recommendation for all our listeners: say, you're studying for a really important exam in six hours. Put on those earphones, play _Eye of the Tiger,_ and close your eyes when you get to the chorus. You'll just… feel the wheels in your mind turning and you'll get to absorb information faster!"

"Hyung, if that method doesn't work–"

" _It will,_ " Joonmyun replies, meeting Jongin in the eye. The cock of the eyebrows says, _don't doubt me now, Kim Jongin;_ the curl of his lips, _you're getting a hang of this._ "It's worked for me at least a hundred times already. And, well, let's just say I haven't dropped from the honors list since I started in K-ARTS."

Jongin covers his microphone and whispers, "You are not fucking around with me, hyung."

Joonmyun shakes his head, then says into the microphone, "But _Eye of the Tiger_ isn't the only song perfect for those long nights of studying, right." He faces away from the microphone and clears his throat. "So we'd like to ask our listeners, what are the theme songs of your life, be it in school or elsewhere? Send us a tweet – don't forget to tag @kartsbroadclub and use the hashtag, #SoundtrackOfMyLife. First up in the soundtrack of _our_ lives is a nice track from Westlife. This also goes out to those guys and girls who can't seem to find the right words to say, so they'd rather sing it in a love song."

 _What the fuck, hyung?_ Jongin wants to say, but decides against it. Instead, he sits back and waits for his cue, listens carefully to Joonmyun's spiel.

"Here's _Obvious_ from their hit album, _Turnaround._ This is DJ $uho–"

Jongin catches Joonmyun's gaze and pins him with a stare. "–and this is DJ Kai–"

"And you are turned to K-ARTS FM, the only station in Seoul that reaches your heart through songs," Joonmyun finishes.

It's a cheesy end to a nice spiel, really. It's _the worst_ that Jongin has heard from Joonmyun, and that's saying a lot because he's followed Joonmyun's online career for years. He _knows_ how Joonmyun signs off or transitions from one segment to another. But there's a message in there, somewhere, that Jongin isn't sure if he wants to dig up and spend time deciphering. He doesn't know if he wants to do his own investigating again and end up getting the short end of the stick, or if he just wants to stick around long enough and wait until Joonmyun comes up to him with a confession in one hand and a promise of kissing 'til the next day in the other.

Jongin pushes himself away from them desk and pokes Joonmyun in his side. Joonmyun giggles a little, but it's a good thing that Sunyoung has turned off their microphones. "Hyung, seriously, Westlife? For an opening track? Couldn't we have gone for–"

"Something that will touch their hearts and urge them to share the 'soundtrack of their life' with us," Joonmyun continues. He grins at the end of his statement, excitement spilling from the corners of his lips. "It doesn't _have_ to be the perfect song, Jongin. It just has to be a song that's relatable to listeners so they'll feel like this whole radio set up? We're doing it the other way around – they're the ones manning the booth, and _we're_ the ones listening to them."

A part of Jongin wants to say, _bullshit, hyung,_ but it makes a lot of sense. The trends aren't lying, either – their hashtag has jumped from #8 to #3 in a span of ten minutes. Without anything else to say, Jongin mumbles, "You're crazy, hyung."

Joonmyun holds his gaze a little longer and pokes him right back. "So are you."

♬ ♬ ♬

They've already sealed the top spot for at least an hour already by the time the program ends. They end with one of the requested songs – Lady Antebellum's _Just a Kiss_ – and off-air Joonmyun wonders what made the listener ask for that song. "I guess we'll find out on Thursday, huh?" Joonmyun says, turning to look at Jongin. "When we board again, together?"

Still high on adrenaline and drunk on the feeling of _actually going on air,_ with a thousand or more people to listen to him and show appreciation for his DJing skills, it takes a while for the news to sink into Jongin's mind. Ten whole seconds, to be exact, or until Joonmyun begins to wave a hand in front of him. "Guess you're still reeling," Joonmyun mumbles, but he isn't even teasing Jongin. Jongin has spent years studying $uho's – no, _Joonmyun's_ – features that, by now, he knows that the gentle nipping at the bottom lip and the shy glance from between the slits of his bangs means Joonmyun _is_ in the same state, as well.

"No words, hyung. No words," Jongin mumbles, then slumps in his seat as soon as Sunyoung raises two thumbs up at them. "Can't believe we just went on air and that we–"

"Trended the entire time. The whole show." Joonmyun moves closer, knees bumping into Jongin's thigh. "From #8 then all the way up to #1. It feels… _Wow._ "

Joonmyun only chuckles in response. He inches even closer, their thighs pressed side-to-side now. He can feel the heat of Joonmyun's skin through the material of his pants, can feel the shift of Joonmyun's muscles in the tight press of their bodies. Even this feels surreal, because he can feel the light trembling of Joonmyun's fingers on his thigh, tickling his knee. He looks to his side, furrowing his eyebrows at Joonmyun – Joonmyun has been doing this for at least three years already, and facing the online community for an even longer time. _This_ – a simple, non-graded radio program shouldn't scare him shitless anymore.

"Ah, that felt great," Joonmyun says after a while. He throws his head back, exposing the column of his neck, then looks at Jongin through half-lidded eyes. "I had fun, Jongin," he continues. "Thank you. I haven't… felt like this in a while."

Jongin laughs a little. Joonmyun must be joking – he's been doing this for years, training rookies like him every semester, even. He's bluffing, Jongin knows it. If Joonmyun were anything like him then he'd also be a shitty liar, but then Joonmyun hasn't looked away yet, hasn't cackled at him to say, _hah, I was kidding!_ The smile on his lips is unwavering and–

And Joonmyun's reaching out to trace the curve of Jongin's cheek with his cold fingers. And Joonmyun's tucking Jongin's hair behind his ear, and smiling even wider as he slides his hand down. And he's holding Jongin by the chin. And he's sitting up, inching closer, and Jongin can feel Joonmyun's hot breath on his lips.

And Jongin closes his eyes because _come on, Jongin, wake up. This is not a nice dream. You can't think of these things in class, Jongin, you can't–_

"Can I?" Joonmyun asks, voice soft, barely above a whisper.

 _Can you what?_ Can Joonmyun dig a deeper grave for Jongin? Can he climb on Jongin's lap and kiss him senseless? Can he expose the two of them in front of the camera, in front of all the people watching the broadcasting club's live broadcast? Jongin crosses the last bit off; Sunyoung turned off the camera earlier, made sure to double check that they're already off-air. It's just the two of them now – Jongin and Joonmyun, alone in the booth, with Joonmyun hovering him, breathing heavy and ragged against Jongin's chest. He can feel the light tremble of Joonmyun's fingers on his chin and _shit_ if he doesn't want this. He does. He just doesn't know why Joonmyun wants the same thing when he has Baekhyun by his side already.

"Hyung–"

Joonmyun laughs a little and leans closer, then presses a soft kiss to the tip of Jongin's nose.

Jongin exhales, loud and uninhibited. Joonmyun pulls away with an easy smile. He's lost all the feeling in his hands, his arms, his thighs where Joonmyun had a knee pressing down on him earlier. His lips still feel cold and dry, though. Half of him feels bereft, and he'd chase Joonmyun's retreating figure if he could but he's glued to the same spot, pinned in place by Joonmyun's stare.

Jongin gulps hard, then says, "Hyung, I–"

"Dinner?" Joonmyun interrupts, then stands from his seat. He dusts himself off, stretches his arms over his head. Joonmyun's defenseless like this, so Jongin takes a leap of faith, stands from where he is to place a soft kiss to Joonmyun's cheek. He can feel his insides turn, can hear all these voices screaming in his head, saying, _Abort, abort! Abort the mission! He froze and he isn't happy but hey, didn't he make the first move–_

And then Joonmyun's eyes widen and Jongin hears a hitch in his breath. He hears Joonmyun's loud gulp, hears the faint gasp that spills from Joonmyun's lips. And never – he repeats the word _never_ – has he ever felt so fucking triumphant in his entire life. This tops the top trend by a long mile.

"Dinner, hyung?" he asks, recovering, and Joonmyun turns to him with wide eyes and parted lips. He holds out his hand, waiting for Joonmyun's own.

Joonmyun reaches out without hesitation.

♬ ♬ ♬

"So," Jongin begins, breath hitching as the last sound in the syllable rolls off his tongue. "We... kissed."

Zitao looks up from his DS then looks down again, but only to save his game. It takes fifteen seconds for Zitao to put everything down and shift in his seat so that he's facing Jongin on his bed, legs folded under his weight. "What do you mean _you kissed?_ " he asks, slow and tentative, eyes narrowed at Jongin like he's trying to digest the whole scenario with all these tiny bits of clues from Jongin. "You _kissed_ kissed or you kissed him and then he–"

"He kissed me. On the nose," Jongin says, tapping the tip, then continues, "And then I froze. And then I decided to, uh, do something really stupid after that and–"

"You pinned him to the wall and kissed him senseless?" Zitao asks, grinning.

"Nah. I just–" Zitao's smile plummets into a frown and Jongin lets out a loud exhale. "I just... kissed him on the cheek. And he froze, as well."

It's hard to explain the dynamics of the entire thing. Technically, they _didn't_ kiss, but it sort of counts as a mutual thing given the similar reactions and the change in the dynamics afterwards. During dinner, Joonmyun sat beside him and traced patterns on his thigh, fingers dipping so dangerously low that Jongin almost feared his dick would jump right out of his pants. After that, they took a walk around the campus to _help the food go down._ Joonmyun held his wrist, and he didn't shuck Joonmyun's hand away. So in essence, it _does_ count as an acknowledgment of each other's feelings. And maybe if Jongin pressed his nose to Joonmyun's cheek then that would count as them really kissing each other.

Jongin shakes his head. It's confusing as fuck. It doesn't make sense. All that makes sense to him right now is the fact that Joonmyun kissed him on the tip of his nose and sort of held his hand the whole night. That's enough to make his heart somersault in his chest one more time, enough for him to turn to Zitao with a crazy grin.

"Okay, question: did he say anything about it after that?" Zitao asks now as he rubs the rip of his nose. His eyebrows are furrowed and his lips are pursed, like he's actually _assessing_ the situation. It would've been funny if Zitao was studying anyone else's case, but this is Jongin's 'Joonmyun Thing' they're dealing with. And this confusing emotion bubbling in his chest isn't supposed to be funny.

"No?" Jongin replies in an instant. He cranes his neck, checking for any stray food in Zitao's room, but to no avail. It's one of those days when Zitao decided to be tidy for once. It's a miracle. Maybe that's it – this is a day for miracles. "And yes. Like, I asked him – _hyung, so, about that thing,_ – and he said that we're cool and that we shouldn't act weird."

Zitao takes a deep breath and shuts his eyes, likes it's taking a lot of effort from him just doing... anything but that. "He's avoiding the topic. Which means he's awkward. Which means you just _made_ him awkward because of that." Zitao buries his face in his hands. "Oh God, what will you do now?"

 _Yeah,_ is the only thing that registers in his brain at the moment. He _knows_ he's supposed to ask for some sort of affirmation or a confirmation that hey, Joonmyun feels the same way, whatever that means, and that maybe Joonmyun has felt like that for a while, even before Jongin decided that _fuck it,_ he's going to return that kiss, just not on the tip of Joonmyun's nose. He knows he's supposed to take a logical approach to things, but how can he? How can he when the only coherent and cohesive sentences that his brain can form at the moment are _he kissed me_ and _I kissed him?_

So he confesses, "I don't know, man." He takes a deep breath, shifts in his seat so that he's leaning on Zitao's shoulder. "I don't know. I just... know that I'm really happy. Or feeling really good about this."

Zitao leans back a little, taking a good look at Jongin, but he holds Jongin's head in place, keeps it there on his shoulder, lets Jongin cushion his muddled brain there. "Just... relish the moment, I guess," Zitao mumbles. They're young. They should be enjoying these kinds of things, happy feelings bubbling in their chests and threatening to break free from the bounds of their shirts. They should focus on that. Jongin should focus on _the now_ and not lose sight of that goal, not think back and tell his younger self that, _Hey, you know this feeling? You could've let yourself feel this a long time ago if you only tried to break free from whatever it was that you and Sehun had back when you were kids._

 _Focus, Jongin. Fucking focus on the now,_ he tells himself. If Sehun found it easy to magically disappear from his life only a few weeks after he moved to another country then _he_ should be able to get a move on. There's no use getting stuck in the past when everyone's moving forward.

He closes his eyes and does exactly as he is told – think of the happy things, of boarding with Joonmyun again tomorrow, and the day after, and then the next. He thinks of acing his midterm exams and just keeps taking small steps forward – the week after their midterms, he'll marathon Pokemon with Joonmyun. And maybe by then they'd have arrived at a conclusion about this 'thing' that they have.

"Wanna finish the last gym with me?" Zitao asks after a while, voice muffled in Jongin's hair.

Jongin laughs a little and nods because _why the hell not?_ "Let's beat the crap out of that gym," he says. "Let's do this!"

♬ ♬ ♬

The next time they board, they secure the #2 trend fifteen minutes into their program.

Baekhyun's the one manning the other side of the booth this time, but Chanyeol's the one checking the monitor and signaling at them – a thumbs-up if their voices are coming out fine as sound waves, drawing a vertical line from bottom to top when he's asking either of them to make their voices louder. One hand flat on the glass if they're running out of time for a particular segment, or Chanyeol gesturing as if he's transferring a tissue roll to his hand when he needs them to stall time.

 _10 more mins we need a gimmick,_ Jongin scribbles on a paper, then slides it in Joonmyun's direction. Joonmyun glances at it from a corner of his eye but remains facing forward speaking into the microphone. _short talk on our lives or something??? idk hyung i'm out of ideas_

"I've been seeing some of our listeners ask if they can talk to DJ Kai on the phone. You guys want that, right?" Joonmyun says, then tilts his head to the side as he glances at Jongin. There's a shit-eating grin on his face and _shit_ , Jongin never thought it would be possible for him to get the urge to punch Joonmyun in the face. And then kiss it soon after. Mindful of the cameras, he laughs and shakes his head in an attempt to mask the panic in his eyes. "I think my partner has a lot of fans. I won't be surprised if 'DJ Kai' starts trending in a few minutes. What do you say? Can you guys make that happen?"

Jongin widens his eyes at Joonmyun as if saying, _Hyung, you can't do this to me!_ He keeps the smile on his lips, though, plasters it to the corners of his mouth. "If they make it happen, we'll prepare something special for them during our last show. How does that sound?"

 _Awesome!_ comes a clip that Baekhyun plays on the other side. He raises a thumbs-up but gives Jongin a sharp look. Jongin gulps hard, then leans closer to the microphone as he says, "Exactly that. So if you guys make it happen, we _promise_ to do something special on our last day here. Deal?"

Joonmyun narrows his eyes at him and Jongin sticks out his tongue. This is a game, a test to see who will give up and give in sooner. And it's unfair because Joonmyun has had more experience with this, dealing with public scrutiny and shrugging certain issues off. Between the two of them, it's Jongin who's bound to lose, Jongin who's bound to lose his mind and give in to the allure of Joonmyun jutting out his bottom lip.

He can trap Joonmyun's lips between his teeth and give it a lazy tug, kiss the living daylights out of Joonmyun, but he doesn't. He doesn't even know what the kiss on the tip of the nose means. What if Joonmyun was just... feeling like it? Feeling generous with touches and kisses and _giving something more?_ His mind is spiraling out of control again, thoughts heading off to several different directions, but Joonmyun pulls him back to _this moment_ , pins him in place, reminds him that they're hosting a show when he presses his palm, warm and heavy, on Jongin's thigh.

And then Joonmyun's snaking his hand up, settling on the groove between the press of his thighs. Joonmyun is tickling his inner thigh through the material of his pants. Jongin gulps hard. On the other side of the booth, Baekhyun bites the inside of his cheek for some weird reason. It takes every inch of control to not yelp or to buck his hips forward, or grind against Joonmyun's hand. Takes every inch of control to keep the smile on his lips from faltering when he leans closer to the microphone to answer one of the callers' questions, saying, "Let me make it clear – I am single and ready to mingle, _but_ you'll have to duke it out with acads when it comes to my attention."

Joonmyun gives Jongin's inner thigh one last pinch before retracting his hand and placing it back on the desk, drumming his fingers. "It'll be a tough battle," Joonmyun comments. "But I'm sure it's worth a shot."

 _And you would know?_ Jongin's almost tempted to ask, but he manages to bite his tongue and hold back. He glances at his computer screen and refreshes the Twitter page. He lets out a loud exhale when he spots 'DJ Kai' at #9 in the top trends. "Okay, you guys really want something special, huh?" he says into the microphone. He gestures for Joonmyun to come closer and clenches his free hand when Joonmyun slides a warm hand up his thigh again. If there are hidden cameras in the room then they are so dead.

If Baekhyun can see this, well then– Jongin doesn't know. He doesn't even know what Joonmyun and Baekhyun have, if there's anything at all. For all he knows, they really are just friends who love touching each other. But he knows the difference between a gasp and a gulp and a hitch of a breath, knows what a lingering stare on the lips means. He also know what _this_ – Joonmyun's hand on his thigh, thumb rubbing dizzying circles on his pants – means; he's not sure if Joonmyun knows what it means to him, that's all.

"Number nine, Kai," Joonmyun whispers, then tilts his head to look at Jongin in the eye. "Looks like we'll have to prepare something special for our fans on Thursday."

Joonmyun leans closer, probably meaning to check the trends, but all Joonmyun manages to do is to brush his lips on Jongin's cheek. "We'll think of something we're sure you'll enjoy on our next program," Jongin manages to say, albeit with a few hiccups. His voice cracks at 'something' and lilts somewhere along the way, as well. Concentrating on work is beginning to get increasingly harder with Joonmyun too close, with Joonmyun's fingers tapping a rhythm on his thigh. It's becoming harder to breathe with Joonmyun's chest pressed to his side, Joonmyun's heartbeat thumping against Jongin's arm.

 _Come on, hyung, don't tell me you're not feeling it, too,_ he wants to cry out, wants to grab Joonmyun by the shoulders and shake him. Wants to cup Joonmyun's face with his palms and ask him, really ask him while looking at him straight in the eye–

"What do you think about singing on air, hyung?" Jongin asks once they go off-air.

Joonmyun leans back into his seat and cocks an eyebrow at him, one corner of his lips quirked up like he's in a state of disbelief. He purses his lips, then, and Jongin leans closer, trying to study Joonmyun's features better. There are certain things he doesn't know about Joonmyun yet, things that he can't see through the thin veil of defense Joonmyun cloaks himself with. And he understands that. They may be closer than most people are but that doesn't mean they know each other inside and out.

Jongin laughs to himself. Proximity doesn't always mean being able to see things clearly. Sometimes it's distance that allows people to see more clearly than before.

"I'm okay with it, I guess," Joonmyun replies. Keeps his lips pressed thinly together after that, the 'but' still dangling off a corner of his mouth. He remains silent when they leave the booth, making way for the last DJs of the night. He remains silent even now that they're back in the main room and Joonmyun's sitting behind his desk again, with the width of the table keeping them apart. He remains silent, and then hums after taking a deep, shaky breath, then resurfaces with a small smile. The corners of his eyes are crinkled.

Jongin furrows his eyebrows and reaches out to squeeze Joonmyun's hand on his desk, but Joonmyun shakes his head. "Only if you sing with me," Joonmyun says after a while. "Only then will I do it on air."

Jongin shrugs, laughs a little. He isn't a shabby singer. Joonmyun sounds great. Together, they can make good music. Maybe then Jongin will be able to convince himself that he has a future in singing and making music instead of just playing it on air for people like him.

"Deal?" Jongin says, sticking out his pinky in Joonmyun's direction.

Joonmyun nods, firm and resolute, and links his pinky with Jongin's own. Joonmyun's fingers are cold.

"Deal."

♬ ♬ ♬

The shock of the century isn't discovering that, even an hour after, 'DJ Kai' is still trending. It's finding Joonmyun in the club room the following day, too early for his boarding shift and rehearsing the song he has to sing.

The song is familiar enough that Jongin finds it easy to sing along a few seconds into the music. It's a Mandy Moore track, one of Jongin's favorite songs to belt out to when he goes out with friends for noraebang. Joonmyun has a bit of difficulty with the low parts so Jongin takes those lines, sings them to the best of his ability. He starts out faint at first, careful not to startle Joonmyun, but Joonmyun's body gives a tiny jerk, anyway. He looks over his shoulder, then, and around, raised eyebrows easing back down upon recognition. He keeps the music playing in the background, faint enough that it doesn't overwhelm their voices but not so faint that Jongin can hear the white noise seeping through. It's a volume pleasing to the ears, and Joonmyun's tone is distinct enough that it sticks to Jongin's mind only seconds after he hears it for the first time.

"Nice pick, hyung," Jongin says in the short part where the female verse transitions to the male verse. He licks his lips then sings, then, because he _promised to_ and Jongin isn't the type to just throw promises out of the window. He catches the gentle bob of Joonmyun's Adam's apple in his throat when Jongin tries to drawl the last part of his verse. Zeroes in on that and tells himself, _It's okay, Jongin, you did great. You didn't make a fool of yourself in front of your Joonmyun-hyung–_

The second chorus comes in, then, and Joonmyun shakes his head. There's still a hint of laughter bubbling on his lips when he starts to sing his part in the chorus. Jongin feels his lips quiver – did he shake? Did he stumble? Did his voice crack at an important part? He's not used to dissecting his own voice. All he knows is that he hasn't done karaoke in months and that the only training he's had recently is singing in the showers. He needs practice. And he needs Joonmyun to sing _with_ him in order to pull off this number.

"You… sing," Joonmyun mutters when the song hits the bridge. It's Jongin's favorite part, especially towards the end of this particular verse where both Mandy and her partner say, _why aren't you with me tonight?_ So he sings-whispers that part to Joonmyun, leaning closer until he has Joonmyun trapped against his own desk. "You… actually sing, Jongin."

Jongin laughs a little. The final chorus comes in. Maybe he'll have to skip the 'yeah, yeah, yeah' part that he loves jamming to during noraebang. It's hard to sing with the distraction of Joonmyun licking his lips.

"I try," he croaks.

"No, I mean–" Joonmyun reaches up, runs two fingers down Jongin's throat. Jongin tries to feign nonchalance but fails at it, ends up widening his eyes as Joonmyun taps a steady one-one, two rhythm on the base of his throat. This isn't supposed to be worse than Joonmyun running his hand up and down Jongin's thighs, but somehow it feels more intimate. Joonmyun rests a hand on the jut of Jongin's hips and slips one leg between Jongin's. The press of his knee on the inside of Jongin's thigh is torture, traitorous, tempting. It makes Jongin want to forget the fact that they're in sacred school grounds and that one move, just one wrong move, can ruin his academic life forever. And Jongin tries to remind himself that Joonmyun's just trying to get closer, that Joonmyun has never thought of proximity as a problem.

But there's nothing wrong with a bit of happiness, isn't it? There's nothing wrong with swallowing against the warm press of Joonmyun's fingers on his throat, nothing wrong with placing a hand on Joonmyun's shoulder. There's nothing wrong with wanting to lean in for a kiss even if he knows that Joonmyun could be thinking of kissing someone else in a different fantasy.

 _Focus, Jongin,_ says a voice at the back of his mind. He lets his gaze travel to the bow of Joonmyun's lips, then back up to Joonmyun's eyes. Joonmyun's gaze is soft, the smile on his lips even more so.

"You mean...?" Jongin asks.

"I mean, you sound great. That you should… keep singing," Joonmyun replies. He presses down on that spot where his fingers have lingered for too long already then draws a line down, all the way to the buckle of Jongin's belt. Jongin tries not to shiver. A sizzle of heat crawls down his abdomen, matching the pace of Joonmyun's fingers. "You shouldn't keep something like that to yourself."

Jongin laughs a little. "I dunno, hyung. The last time I went up on stage to sing, the entire batch laughed at me when I sang the wrong lyrics."

Joonmyun snorts. The press of his lips against each other is tighter than before. "I know how that feels."

Jongin takes a leap of faith, pinches Joonmyun in his stomach. Joonmyun doesn't laugh, nor does he giggle. "You sound great, though."

"Not for some people, Jongin," Joonmyun replies. Joonmyun sits up straight, then, hands dropping to his sides. The sudden loss of warmth has a whimper threatening to spill from Jongin's lips but he manages to hold back, manages to swallow it down. "Maybe for you, I do, but for some people–"

Jongin doesn't want to prod, doesn't _mean_ to prod, but Joonmyun broached the topic first. Joonmyun started singing and memories just started pouring from the back of Jongin's mind. Practicing control and focus? Jongin's bad at that. He just tries hard. And right now the only thing he can focus on is the tight press of Joonmyun's lips. "For… some people? What do you mean, hyung?"

Joonmyun takes a deep breath, then shakes his head. Three counts, and then he's smiling again like a recalibrated robot. It's disconcerting. "So, do you want to run through the song once before we start going live?"

He contemplates on not letting the topic go, but the corners of Joonmyun's mouth are quivering. He lets out a loud exhale, then nods. He gives Joonmyun his best smile. It takes him longer than five seconds to wipe out the worry from his mind. He isn't as good as Joonmyun in that department. "Sure."

They don't go on air until three in the afternoon, though, after Soojung and Sunyoung's program that Chanyeol directs. He gives the girls a pat on the back, then a bone-crushing hug when Sunyoung leans her head on Chanyeol's shoulder. Soojung doesn't say anything, but the light flush of her cheeks says more than enough. Jongin laughs at a corner, then, as he marvels at the sight, imprinting the image of Soojung's moment of surrender in his mind. He can taunt Soojung with it next time, tease her when she doesn't want to accompany him to study in the library. _So Chanyeol-hyung's the key, huh?_ he'd say, and he's sure Soojung will agree to tagging along. After offering to buy her lunch or dinner, of course. That's mandatory.

"Ready?" Joonmyun asks beside him, a warm palm steady on the small of his back. Jongin nods without hesitation and allows Joonmyun to pull him inside. He doesn't even try to put up a fight.

It's a fairly normal program after that. They take more calls than the usual, and people start requesting for Jongin to deliver certain lines from dramas or movies. They ask Joonmyun and Jongin to act out a scene in Harry Potter, the practice battle between Draco and Harry, and Joonmyun has to deliver a couple of impromptu lines while waiting for Jongin to stop laughing at Joonmyun's Draco impersonation. Joonmyun's really good at voice acting, though, Jongin muses as they move to a different scene, the one where Snape dies and tells Harry to look into his eyes. Joonmyun enunciates words clearly, delivers his lines with all these emotions that are just so moving, but there's no denying that the facial expressions take away drama from the entire scene. At one point, Jongin has to bite the back of his hand to keep himself from cackling. Joonmyun kicks him under the table in response.

"The 'always' line _always_ gets me," Jongin comments. He takes a deep breath then looks up at Joonmyun, biting the inside of his cheek in an attempt to keep himself from laughing. "It's so heartfelt–"

His voice cracks somewhere along the way, until Joonmyun hits him hard on the arm. On the other side of the booth, Kyungsoo and Chanyeol roll their eyes at them but play some comical sound effects of cartoon characters getting into a fight, anyway. Trust Chanyeol to be quick with these things.

Trust Joonmyun to elicit the wildest laughter from Jongin, as well. And trust Jongin to earn himself forgiveness in a soft mumble of _please, hyung?_ , Jongin's fingers slipping between Joonmyun's own under the table.

It isn't a surprise anymore that #SountrackOfMyLife gets into the top trends again, starting at number five in the list thirty minutes into the program, then steadily climbing to the top spot as the show progresses. It's a great morale booster, fuels Jongin just enough to get through some awkward segments in the show and weird questions that some listeners ask. _Are you looking for a girlfriend right now? If not, how about a boyfriend? How do you feel about one-night stands, oppa? Oppa, I heard you play Pokemon. Do you want to catch me with your master ball?_ All sorts of weird things. At one point, Joonmyun began to screen some of them, reading only the wholesome and safe ones on air.

"Our DJ Kai is a hit among sophomores, I see," Joonmyun teases. He turns to Jongin with a big grin, one that makes the corners of his eyes crinkle and elicits a giggle from him. "I wonder how many boxes of Pepero Kai will get on Pepero day…"

 _Don't give them ideas!_ Jongin wants to say, but instead he only widens his eyes at Joonmyun and stretches at the corners of his lips with an even wider grin. It stings just a little, but not so much to make Jongin's lips quiver. "Ah, I'm sure you'll be getting a lot of those, too, on Pepero day, $uho," he replies, then. He inches closer, knees bumping into Joonmyun thigh. Joonmyun doesn't jerk away. "What do you think?"

"I think–" Joonmyun's just about to run a lick along his bottom lip when Chanyeol holds up his hand and Kyungsoo raises a sign that says _10 mins to go, you two still have a song to perform_. Joonmyun faces front, then, tears his eyes away from Jongin and speaks into the microphone. "I think it's time that Kai and I got ready for our special performance."

 _Nice save,_ Jongin mouths. To the listeners, he says, "We've prepared really hard for this. Didn't sleep, even, just to make sure that we can give you our best performance!" Joonmyun laughs beside him, the sound trapped in the tiny cup of his hand over his mouth. "We hope you like it!"

Joonmyun flashes two thumbs up at the camera and gestures at Kyungsoo to load the next song on the queue – The Fray's _Love Don't Die_ , if Jongin remembers correctly – while clenching and unclenching his fists. Jongin waits for Joonmyun's signal, if he'll be the one delivering the sign off or if he'll defer it to Jongin, but Joonmyun stays still in his seat as the opening notes of _Love Don't Die_ fade into their background music. Jongin parts his lips, poised to speak, but Joonmyun recovers and clears his throat.

Looking up at the camera, he says, "Now here's The Fray's most recent release, something to tide The Fray fans through the storm and until they release their new album on the last quarter of the year. To the fans who have lost patience and faith in their return, this is what The Fray has to say – _a thousand years go by, but–_

He points at Jongin. Not missing a beat, Jongin says into the microphone, " _–love don't die._ This is The Fray's _Love Don't Die_ and you are listening to K-ARTS FM, the only station in Seoul that knows the way to your heart… and to your soul."

The music grows louder, and they take this as a sign to get to preparing. Joonmyun gestures at Chanyeol to load the track, while Kyungsoo moves to the other side of the booth and hands them lyrics sheets. "Make sure to enunciate these parts well. No garbled words, unlike Mandy and the guy," he says, scoring through some key words of the song. Trust Kyungsoo to be meticulous with enunciation. Joonmyun nods, taking in Kyungsoo's feedback, and Jongin does the same when Kyungsoo tells him to make sure he doesn't stumble on his words, "Don't rush. Also, feel the song. I heard the rehearsal earlier and you're getting there." Kyungsoo gives both of them a pinch on the arm. "Just a little more push."

"More like a shove," comes Chanyeol's voice through the speaker system. Kyungsoo probably means to stick up his middle finger in Chanyeol's direction, but remembers that they're on air. He narrows his eyes at Chanyeol, instead, and Chanyeol blows him a kiss. Kyungsoo grimaces. It's warranted, Jongin things. Beside him, Joonmyun chuckles.

 _Love Don't Die_ 's last few notes blares through the speakers and then it's gone, replaced instead by an upbeat instrumental track that Jongin recognizes is from the soundtrack of the Pokemon TV animation. The light music eases Joonmyun's nerves considerably, the tight corners of his mouth softening into an easy smile as he introduces themselves again. "So that was the latest song from The Fray, _Love Don't Die._ If you're losing hope or faith, just remember those three words. Also, remember Dumbledore's secret magic – love."

"Love conquers all," Jongin adds, letting out a loud exhale. He makes it sound a bit wistful on purpose. Joonmyun only laughs a little in response then nods in his direction, as if saying, _This is your answer to the dare and you just dragged me into it. The least you could do is to deliver our intro._ Jongin meets Joonmyun's gaze, then, steady as ever, and cocks an eyebrow in a question, saying, _Ready?_

The bigger smile on Joonmyun's lips can mean two things – one, he _is_ feeling confident about this performance and that yes, he's ready; and two, he just wants to get this done and over with so _let's just do this even if I'm not ready._ Jongin decides on the former, then moves closer to his microphone. "So two days ago, on the second day of our program, I promised our listeners that we'll prepare a special treat if you guys make 'DJ Kai' trend within the last ten minutes of the show. And well, you guys did it. Within five minutes of posting that challenge, even."

Chanyeol plays a clip of people cheering, coupled with the sound of applause. If there's anyone who should go into sound mixing in the professional scene, it should be Chanyeol, Jongin thinks.

"So! Two things," Jongin continues. He clears his throat. "First, thank you–" Cheers again, and clapping from just beside him. He turns to Joonmyun with a cocked eyebrow and Joonmyun mimics the action as if asking, _What are you gonna do now, huh? Will you really do that on air?_ "–for the support and for making us trend on _all three days_ that our show aired. It means a lot to us." More applause that Jongin is sure won't end anytime soon. It tickles his heart.

"And second, we'd like to thank you for giving us the opportunity to perform this song on air. It's one of my favorites," Jongin adds. Beside him, Joonmyun takes in a shaky breath. "DJ $uho will lead the performance so please, please, _please_ give him a round of applause! He's amazing."

Chanyeol keeps the applause clip playing in the background and raises his own hands in approval. Joonmyun moves closer to his own microphone, then, and says, "And please do support DJ Kai here. He will be releasing a digital single as soon as we sign off–"

"Hyung!" Jongin widens his eyes, hoping that Joonmyun will get the next few lines he _can't_ say on air. _You can't just tell them something like that just because you know I won't hate you for it because you know that I–_

"So, Kai, shall we?" comes Joonmyun's soft voice, lips quivering as he smiles.

Jongin takes a deep breath and squeezes his fisted hands tight until he feels his nails digging into his skin. "Okay. Let's do this."

The first few notes of _Someday, We'll Know_ come in, and already Joonmyun finds himself laughing. He manages to regain composure after the second set of introductory notes, though, just in time for Mandy Moore's lines to come in. He starts out soft, faint, like he isn't even sure of what he's doing and that he's asking, again and again, _why am I even doing this?_ The last word of the verse rolls off his tongue nicely, though, velvety and rich, that Jongin almost misses his cue if not for Joonmyun kicking his leg under the table.

Jongin moves closer to the mic, enunciating the words in his lines to the best of his ability, opening his mouth as wide as he can so that the won't be mumbling his words. He remembers that tip from Kyungsoo, remembers the dull ache of Kyungsoo's elbow in his side as Kyungsoo reiterated for what seemed like the third time within the past ten minutes, _don't eat your words._

By the time they hit the chorus, Jongin feels the tension in his shoulders lift. He's swaying to the music now and Joonmyun looks as if he's enjoying, too, but there's still a bit of apprehension in Joonmyun's movements, in the way he bobs his head only slightly like he's afraid that it will come off if he moves it like he normally would. On a normal broadcast, Joonmyun would be drumming his fingers on the table or tapping them to the melody of the song playing in the background, but today his fingers are frozen mid-clench, and his breathing is shallow. It almost makes Jongin choke on a like, almost makes him go sharp. He manages to salvage it when he tears his gaze from Joonmyun and tells himself to focus, _if not for Joonmyun-hyung then at least for the program–_

They're at the second chorus now, on their way to the bridge where the most crucial part of the song is. In a moment of spontaneity, he locks his ankle on Joonmyun's own under the table, using the very few seconds in the song where they don't have to sing to look at Joonmyun and mouth, _you're doing great, hyung!_

Joonmyun's response is a tight-lipped smile. He parts his lips only when his cue comes, Mandy Moore's line spilling from his lips in a manner so fluid that Jongin doesn't even realize that he's supposed to be singing already. He tries to catch up, filling the second vocals of the song, and come the line where their voices meet and Jongin hits a particularly high note, he feels his throat drying up, tensing, clenching around nothing in particular.

Joonmyun closes his eyes and lets his voice soar high above Jongin's shaky tone and carries them through the last chorus. His cheeks tug up as he sings louder, brighter, each word tumbling from his lips more clearly than before. And Jongin does his best to catch up, keeping Joonmyun close through the link of their ankles under the table. He relishes the warm press of their bodies, the laughter he hears in Joonmyun's voice, and the smile that surfaces on Joonmyun's lips as the song ends.

He lets out a loud exhale, breathless, and gulps hard. The lighting in the room isn't supposed to be flattering, but _damn_ the yellow light casts a warm glow on Joonmyun that softens the lines of tension on his forehead, the crinkles at the corners of his eyes, the hard mold of his lips. The corners stretch into a grin that lights up the rest of his features, and his shoulders _finally_ fall forward in his last huff. Jongin doesn't want to ruin this moment, not for Joonmyun, so he asks Chanyeol to loop the track, keeping the volume low. And Joonmyun just remains in his seat, closing his eyes as he leans back into it and lets the music fill his ears.

"And that was _Someday, We'll Know,_ one of Mandy Moore's greatest hits from the film _A Walk to Remember,_ " Jongin says into the microphone. He tugs at Joonmyun's ankles; Joonmyun lets out a loud exhale in acknowledgement, then sits up again. He nods in Jongin's direction as if saying, _Go on, you know what to do. You're a big kid now._ "You heard that rendition first on K-ARTS FM. Once again, we'd like to thank everyone for tuning in the whole week and for making all these top trends possible. We hope to see you again next year!"

Joonmyun reaches for the microphone with one hand and says, "This has been DJ $uho–"

Jongin meets Joonmyun's gaze head on and says right back, "–and this has been DJ Kai–"

"And it has been an honor to bring to you the best music from the 50's all the way to the present time. Thank you for tuning in to K-ARTS FM, the only station that knows the way to your heart–"

Jongin laughs a little. That will never get old. "–and to your soul. DJs $uho and Kai, out!"

A light buzzing sound, and then they're off-air. The applause on the other side of the booth is loud, thundering, maybe even alarming. Jongin hasn't heard clapping this loud before, but maybe that's because they're in a sound booth and every sound here, everything that isn't noise, gets magnified threefold. Maybe that's why his pulse sounds so crisp and clear in his system, or that could be why Joonmyun's heavy breathing rings brightly in his ears despite the distance between them.

"We did it," Joonmyun whispers. He looks dazed, like he's in a state of bliss. This must be fatigue and the high of having just ended a great radio show talking. His cheeks are a light shade of pink and he looks _beautiful_ wearing this look, this skin of contentment. "I can't believe we sang on air and everyone liked it and–"

One beat, two beats, and Joonmyun takes a deep breath. Jongin stays rooted in his spot as Joonmyun turns to face him, and suddenly he feels like he _has_ to do something, _say_ something. An explanation of sorts as to why he chose a song number as their activity, or maybe ask Joonmyun for an explanation behind the song pick. He can't figure it right now. There are so many words running around in his mind at the moment, so many things that he's been suppressing himself from saying. There are so many words that Joonmyun can so easily coax out of him when they're on air and then push to the very back of his throat once the red light goes out.

"I'm sorry," Jongin mumbles. He sees Chanyeol motioning to knock on the glass window, but instead Chanyeol just waves at them and mouths, _Samgyupsal, yeah? We have to celebrate!_

 _Not yet,_ Jongin thinks. He raises a thumbs-up in Chanyeol's direction, anyway, at the same time that Joonmyun nods at Chanyeol. Kyungsoo is last to leave the booth, closing the door behind him with a soft 'click'.

Jongin gulps hard and says, one more time, in case Joonmyun hadn't heard him the first time around, "I'm sorry, hyung. I'm… sorry for forcing this on you."

Joonmyun chuckles, eyebrows furrowed just a little. Jongin catches a scratch in Joonmyun's speech somewhere along the way. The sound booth works wonders on voices, makes them sound more raw sometimes. Unpolished. Real.

"What do you mean?" Joonmyun asks. "The number went well and you were really into it and–"

"You said before, a few weeks back, that you used to sing. You said that and nothing else." Jongin drops his gaze to his hands, then scratches one nail on his jeans. "I asked why and you looked like you… didn't want to talk about it. So I guess you must have had a really bad experience with it? I dunno…"

Jongin worries his bottom lip. He's usually better with apologies and the like, forming coherent sentences in his mind, but Joonmyun has this ability to flush all sense and logic out of him or convince him to throw both out of the window. Convince him to move closer like this – wheeling his seat forward until he can slip his thighs between Joonmyun's own. The friction shoots sparks to the tips of his fingers, runs shivers down his spine, sends his stomach tumbling again. It feels like going back to square one and meeting his idol for the very first time, except it's different. He hadn't cared about Joonmyun's health back then, hadn't thought of running his hands through Joonmyun's hair to make him look less worn out and more alive. He didn't care about Joonmyun then, period, beyond the DJing stint. And now he does, maybe more than he'd expected.

He cares about Joonmyun enough that he'd caught that weird lilt in Joonmyun's voice earlier, a small slip, and the look of horror in his features just before he recovered to deliver his next lines.

Joonmyun shrugs, though, like it doesn't mean a thing. Maybe it shouldn't. Maybe Jongin is just reading too much into every damn thing that he's blowing things out of proportion again. Setting himself up for something akin to a heartache but not quite, but something painful just the same.

"It's okay," Joonmyun replies. He reaches out, warm palm pressing down on the back of Jongin's hand on his thigh. "It's all in the past. What's important is that it's done and that we did our best. We kept our promise." Joonmyun takes a deep breath then pulls away, straightening up and easing the creases on his shirt. "That's what's important."

There isn't much to do on this side of the room but Jongin looks for _something_ that will keep them anchored here. He doesn't want to leave yet. He _can't_ leave yet, not with all these unfinished statements dangling off the corners of Joonmyun's mouth, the tip of Joonmyun's tongue, waiting for a clumsy enunciation. He can't just let Joonmyun walk away from this again like he has, so many times already, and just brush it off. On the off chance that Jongin fucks things up by imposing himself on Joonmyun again, what will he do to make it up to Joonmyun? Joonmyun won't always understand. There's got to be a limit to this.

But Joonmyun's already halfway out the door, not even looking over his shoulder to check if Jongin has gotten back on his feet. "Come on, they're waiting," he says, and takes a few more steps forward.

Jongin takes a deep breath and stands from his seat, following Joonmyun. When the door closes behind him, he lunges and grabs Joonmyun by the wrist.

It's dark here in the narrow corridor, the passageway from the booth to the main club room. The only lights that are on are the ones on both ends of the corridor; all other parts of the long path are clothed in shadows, not even dim. There's no way of telling whether Joonmyun is looking at him in the eye or not but he says it anyway, _asks_ Joonmyun to, "Please, hyung, look at me. Tell me why you didn't want to sing at first. Tell me why it's such a big deal for you because–"

Joonmyun scoffs. Jongin bites on his lower lip, hard enough to bruise. He can feel the tang of blood on his tongue, slithering up the the back of his throat. It's not a nice taste.

"Why does it matter?" Joonmyun asks.

"Because–" Jongin bites the inside of his cheek. Times like these, he wishes he had a song to play that could best capture his emotions. Or maybe just an instrumental – that would will be able to communicate the feeling. But this – Jongin doesn't know how to explain it. All he knows is that it bothers him and the vacant expression on Joonmyun's features earlier scared him shitless.

"Because it bothers you," Jongin replies. He licks his bottom lip, then, seething when he feels a sharp pang of pain. He shakes it off. "And nothing ever seems to bother you. You're… you're this cool, calm, and collected hyung that everyone looks up to. The only time I saw you so lost was when you were rushing to get your paper done and… And I guess that's normal? Because thesis is a monster that eats you up from the inside then out? Because–"

"I did it because I couldn't say no. I sang with you because I can't say no to _you_ ," Joonmyun answers. It's difficult to see with the darkness growing thicker and the air around them hot and sticky with unspoken words. He can feel the shift of Joonmyun's muscles, though, can hear Joonmyun shifting in his position, can feel Joonmyun's hands on his chest. "You looked so lost at first, when we met, and I guess I have a thing for saving people," he continues, laughing as he ends. It doesn't sound biter – it sounds helpless, like he doesn't know any other way to phrase it. Joonmyun, the master of words and control over them, cannot even string an explanation together with the darkness crowding in on them. "And then when you were singing, earlier, you looked happy and I–"

He feels Joonmyun ball his hand into fists in his shirt, feels the sharp tug Joonmyun gives him. "I couldn't say no to you, Jongin. I don't know why, but I just can't."

Jongin takes a deep, shaky breath. He counts to ten, and then to zero, and then ten again. Joonmyun pushes him against the wall and he winces when he feels Joonmyun's knuckles digging into his skin. It doesn't _sting_ , but there's a dull ache in his muscles, a constant reminder of Joonmyun being pressed so close to him. He can feel Joonmyun's thundering pulse on his chest and _shit,_ his throat constricts and tightens and goes dry. And he wants to say something. He _needs_ to say something because that's what people do, right, when they ask for an explanation and they're given one? Say that they're accepting it or that they think it's bullshit? Say how they feel about it through real words and not just actions? He owes Joonmyun that, but even Joonmyun is shit at words right now.

And Joonmyun's his idol. So what's a fan supposed to do when his idol goes weak? What can _he_ do now? He's helpless.

 

"I don't know what to do with you," Joonmyun whispers, breath hot and tickling on Jongin's lower lip. The heat catches on the bruised area and Jongin feels a jolt of electricity course through his body. "I thought I just wanted to help but I just ended up like a mess and now you're the one helping me and–"

"Hyung," is the only thing Jongin manages to say, then he's snaking his hands around Joonmyun's waist. And then he's pulling Joonmyun closer, the fit of their bodies hot and awkward in the narrow corridor. He can feel Joonmyun's soft lips on his chin, the wet press of Joonmyun's skin on his own as Joonmyun sucks on the underside of his jaw. He can hear his own pulse beating so loudly in his ears and it's deafening, far more deafening than Joonmyun's heavy breathing against his chest. He balls his hands into fists because he doesn't know what to do and it's frustrating – he's always known how to deal with any situation thrown at him, but not this. Not Joonmyun. He's never been able to properly deal with Joonmyun.

And then Joonmyun's tiptoeing, leaning even closer, pressing his lips on Jongin's own.

Jongin sucks in breath through the narrow opening of his lips but he only succeeds in pulling Joonmyun closer. He parts his lips a little, then gives Joonmyun's top lip gentle nips until Joonmyun's opening up, the tight press of his lips coming off as Jongin slicks along his bottom lip. It's so messy, the inelegant slide of their mouths, but Joonmyun sucks on the strained corners of his mouth, on his tongue, licks a stripe along the cavern of his mouth and everything feels so right. He snakes his hands up Joonmyun's back, grabbing a fistful of Joonmyun's hair, and he swallows the tiny gasp that escapes Joonmyun's lips as he sucks on Joonmyun's bottom lip and kisses deeper, wilder. He can feel Joonmyun's fists tightening in his shirt and he his heart is beating so fast that he fears it might jump out of his chest, but Joonmyun makes him forget all those in the warm, open press of his mouth, the gentle nips on Jongin's lips, its corners, the butterfly kisses along his jaw.

Three knocks on the door and a faint _hey, you two, we're getting hungry!_ jolt them right back to reality. Joonmyun takes a step back, pulling away. Jongin tries to chase a taste of Joonmyun mouth for the last time, but Joonmyun rests his hands on Jongin's chest and whispers, "They're waiting for us." Jongin wants to say that he doesn't care, that _this_ is all that matters at the moment but they made a promise. They made a promise to join the others for dinner and celebrate the success of their tiny broadcast, of all the top trends that they managed to get during the week-long broadcasting activity.

"Right," Jongin whispers, but leans in for one last kiss on Joonmyun's cheek. "We should… we should get going."

He hears Joonmyun's sharp intake of breath, feels Joonmyun's cold fingers wrapping around his wrist and pulling him forward, _closer_ but five spaces apart. When they step outside this corridor and out of the dark, he'll be able to see better, more clearly, and maybe make sense of things. Maybe then he'll realize what the hands on his chest keeping him from coming even closer meant earlier. But the dull ache in his jaw doesn't leave him long after they've closed the lights in the club room, or even after they've made their way out of the campus and to the barbecue place nearby. It's enough a reminder of what has happened in that corridor, in those few seconds in the dark, enough to haunt him for the rest of the night.

Soojung falls into step with him and nudges him in his side. "You okay?" she asks and he nods in response, smiling.

The stretch at the corners of his mouth stings. The taste of blood in his mouth when he bites his bottom lip a bit too hard as Baekhyun slings an arm around Joonmyun's shoulder, even more.


	3. Chapter 3

Jongin gently pries Soojung's fingers from her shot glass and tells her to keep her hands to herself. Not even an hour into dinner yet and almost all of them are drunk, if not a bit buzzed. The results are varying – Soojung becomes more indulgent in Chanyeol's bad jokes after one too many shots of soju. Kyungsoo talks more, too, and hits people less. Sunyoung has enough courage to move closer to Kyungsoo, too, and that keeps Jongin distracted for a while until Chanyeol almost knocks over the bottle of soju that they've just opened.

"Maybe you should stop drinking, hyung," Jongin says, wrapping his fingers around the bottle and _very carefully_ putting it somewhere not within Chanyeol's reach. The distance varies – when Chanyeol's standing up, everything's within reach, but when he's sitting down and pressed close to Soojung, he can't even budge an inch. "No, hyung, seriously. You're drunk–"

"Not drunk," Chanyeol replies, grinning. There's a bit of kimchi in his teeth. Soojung seems to find that amusing; Jongin thinks it's gross. Across the table, Baekhyun calls Jongin's attention, asks him to pour them another round. "That guy over there? The one with Joonmyun-hyung?" Chanyeol adds, hiccuping. "He's the one who's drunk."

"Says the guy with laughable tolerance!" Baekhyun retorts.

"Says the guy who got shitfaced with beer last year!" Chanyeol says right back. Baekhyun sticks his middle finger up in the air and Joonmyun laughs in response.

Jongin does act like the nice dongsaeng that he is. He stands from his seat, pouring everyone a drink (yes, even Chanyeol). He walks over to where Baekhyun and Joonmyun are, pressed so close together, and fixes his eyes on the liquid trickling from the mouth of the bottle. "Good to know you aren't a lightweight," comes Joonmyun's voice, soothing as ever, but it's a notch lower than the usual. It makes Jongin's insides turn and his hand jerk a little.

"Whoops. Careful there, buddy," Baekhyun says. He reaches over, offering a hand, but Jongin shakes his head. "You sure you're alright?"

Jongin laughs a little. _Funny you should ask,_ he wants to say, but decides against it. He may not have the worst tolerance but his self-control is shit after a few good shots of soju. "Yeah. I'm good, hyung. Don't worry."

He places Baekhyun's filled shot glass in front of him and Joonmyun reaches for his wrist, giving it a light squeeze. "I can pour some for myself," Joonmyun says, but his eyes say something else. Something along the lines of, _you don't have to do this, Jongin, please don't torture yourself–_

" _I'm good,_ " he says, slower this time, as if being more careful with enunciating his words. Kyungsoo will probably be so fucking proud of him if he wasn't getting shitfaced with Sunyoung. "I mean it, hyung. I can go home on my own if I had to."

"You don't–" Joonmyun says, then gives Jongin a curt nod when he hands Joonmyun the shot glass. "You don't have to leave–"

"I won't," he says. His mind's a mess right now that he isn't sure if that came out clearly instead of sounding like a gurgle or something. He makes his way back to his side of the table, far from the two, and takes a shot. Takes another as soon as the liquid goes down. Fishes for his phone from his pocket and texts Zitao, _jonign s consfused!! he hit himslef n conufusiong!!!!111_

 _hey bro u need me to pick u up or something?_ Zitao replies not more than a few seconds after.

_no m gdu_  
_*UGD_  
_*GOOD GODAMMIT_

He pours himself another shot and watches as Chanyeol snatches it from him to toast with Soojung. Across the table, Joonmyun laughs at whatever Baekhyun is saying, but leans back into his seat when Baekhyun reaches out to cup his cheek. Baekhyun still succeeds, but not without almost jabbing Joonmyun in the fact. Now _that_ makes Jongin laugh a little.

He looks at his phone and feels a dull pang in his chest. There it is again, good ol' alcohol at work. He types as fast as his fingers can map out, _m so confused amn idk wattodo_

 _drink :)_ is Zitao's helpful advice, so he pours himself another shot and relishes in the feeling of the hot liquid scoring a line down his throat. This type of pain is better than the dull ache in his jaw that reminds him of Joonmyun's lips. It's better than anything Joonmyun makes him feel.

♬ ♬ ♬

"Fuck," Jongin groans. He feels around for his glasses and ends up knocking over his alarm and pushing it off the tale. "Fuck, fuck, _fuck._ "

It's a Saturday, which means the best time to catch breakfast is at nine in the morning. Too late for that, though, Jongin muses as he checks the time once more – 10:48, it reads. If he hadn't stayed out until 2 a.m. then he wouldn't have had to stay dead to the world until almost eleven in the morning. If he just stopped drinking after their third bottle then he won't have to deal with a nasty headache in the morning. If he hadn't made sure that all the other members were able to get to their dorms safely then he wouldn't have had to try to keep himself from throwing up on the floor _and then_ let everything out in his bathroom.

 _Oh well,_ he thinks. At least he doesn't feel all queasy now. And it was easy to clean up his bathroom after that unfortunate event. He feels around for his phone and finds 3 missed calls, all from Zitao. He types up a quick message, then, and says, _hey i'm alive sorry for last night._

_YOU SCARED ME U ASSHOLE THE LAST THING U TEXTED WAS A CRYING FACE u owe me lunch kk c u._

So twelve noon finds Jongin in the cafeteria with Zitao, wearing sunglasses indoors. "Ah, the fresh face of a hangover," Zitao says as a greeting, then envelops him in a hug. It's tight enough that Jongin feels a weird, dull ache in his arms when Zitao pulls away and drops his hands to his side, but loose enough that Jongin can still breathe. He buries his face in the crook of Zitao's neck long after they've stopped hugging.

"I feel so stupid," he begins, groaning. Zitao chuckles. The vibrations make Jongin's head hurt all the more, but chest feels oddly light. "But I'm also happy? And confused. And weird."

"You're just hungry," Zitao offers, pinching Jongin stomach in the process. He rests both hands on Jongin's shoulders and gives him a gentle push forward, in the direction of the buffet table. "Okay, come on, I'm hungry. Time to eat now!"

Zitao becomes quiet company over lunch. It's a bit comforting, this brand of silence. Jongin doesn't even feel the need to explain until he sees a familiar figure enter the cafeteria from a corner of his eye. He ducks at first, trying to hide, but his brain still feels as if there's gallons of alcohol in it that he can't even do any rapid movement for fear of cultivating an even greater headache.

"Y'know, it would help if you didn't look away. He wouldn't have noticed," Zitao whispers. Jongin looks up again, nonetheless, and gives Joonmyun a casual wave, one that doesn't shake up his mind and stir his senses.

"I see you have a migraine," Joonmyun says when he reaches Jongin and Zitao's table. His voice is soft, barely above a whisper. He addresses Zitao with a smile, then turns back to Jongin to ask. "Can I… sit with you two?"

 _No, you can't. You can't sit with us after Baekhyun-hyung almost climbed onto your lap last night and almost kissed you senseless,_ Jongin wants to say, but it sounds stupid even if only in his head. It makes him sound like some kid whining to his mommy because _he took my candy away!_ And to be fair, Baekhyun had the candy first in physical form. It's just that Jongin has been pining for the candy for years already and didn't have the means to buy it.

"Sure," he says, instead, because that's the only response that doesn't require much change in his facial expression. Joonmyun excuses himself to grab some food and asks if the two want anything from the lot. Zitao says he wants chips. Jongin doesn't say anything out loud but says in his mind, _I just want you to stay here and not go away._

"This'll be an interesting lunch," Zitao mumbles. He turns back to his phone when Jongin kicks him under the table and says nothing else after that.

Joonmyun _does_ return with snacks and candies for Zitao and Jongin. He asks Zitao about his day, then, ask him if he tuned in to the week-long program. Asked him if he participated in the discussions. He turns to Jongin with a frown when Jongin confesses to not addressing Zitao's song request, but in his defense, "It was requested in the previous show. We can't do multiples within an hour of each other!" It makes sense. It's something he has learned from one of Joonmyun's 'How to be a Good DJ' videos, the fourth installment in the series. It's the only thing keeping him from playing Snow Patrol's entire discography on loop throughout the program.

"Jongin did really great," Joonmyun comments somewhere along the way, after popping the last mulmandu in his mouth. Under the table, he links their ankles together, and this time Jongin's breath hitches. He widens his eyes as if saying, _Hyung, there's someone else in here. You can't–_ But then Joonmyun has never good with interpreting Jongin's panicked sentences, or his misbehaving hands. Joonmyun never listens long enough and, instead, swallows all the sounds dripping from Jongin's lips in a kiss.

"The song was my favorite," Jongin says, the grin on his lips triumphant, if not a bit childish. Joonmyun cocks an eyebrow at him and holds his gaze for a while, then pulls his foot away, sitting up straight. It's like a safe word, that if either of them ever thinks of pushing the boundaries without clearing things up, the other just has to say it. Then Joonmyun will be brought back to his senses and a violent breath of life will be thrust into his lungs.

Joonmyun looks away and shakes his head, stuffing his mouth with food instead of catching Jongin off-guard with a reply. Already, Jongin feels like regretting ever thinking of forcing a response out of Joonmyun, an trying to get an explanation to _something_ even he doesn't understand yet. Joonmyun looks up at him only briefly, through the slits of his bangs, as if in punishment. He huffs.

"The audience loved it," Joonmyun says. Zitao's eyes haven't stopped flitting between them in an effort to figure things out before Jongin even attempts to explain what happened last night. "Maybe we should do… another collaboration sometime. After your finals–"

Jongin's ears perk up. "A collaboration?" he asks, just in case he was imagining things earlier. He can't be too sure these days, especially after that incident in the corridor. Joonmyun hums, nodding, and Jongin takes it as a sign to go on. "After my finals?"

"After my paper defense, too. So once those are out of the way, we can concentrate on the collaboration. _Only_ if you want to, though," Joonmyun says. He worries his bottom lip and pokes holes at the slice of tteok in front of him. _Poor tteok,_ Jongin says. He knows how it feels to be pricked, both by a stick and by Joonmyun. "I mean, I don't want to impose–"

 _At least use a different line, hyung,_ Jongin almost says, but he manages to keep it together and reply with, "You're not imposing, hyung. Never." A sip of his drink, then he adds, "You're never an inconvenience."

Under the table, Joonmyun foot jerks forward – whether it's voluntary or otherwise, Jongin can't tell. He needs more food in his system and less alcohol. Maybe he needs some fresh air, as well. Joonmyun is silent for a moment, but maybe that's because he's finally taken the tteokbokki into his mouth and chewing it, seething between munches.

Joonmyun's lips are a nice shade of red. There's a smidgen of gochujang at a corner of his lips. Jongin wonders how it would feel, licking the spicy paste off of Joonmyun's lips. Joonmyun probably has the ability to turn spicy sauces sweet. Joonmyun scowls, though, and that's what snaps Jongin out of his reverie, what makes him realize that Joonmyun is tugging at his ankle again, pulling him closer, like there's something he can do about the table keeping them apart.

Zitao drinks his tea with a loud, sloppy noise that makes Jongin wince. When he turns to look at Zitao, Zitao raises an eyebrow at him. Zitao leans close and whispers, "We have to talk."

♬ ♬ ♬

_Talking_ means munching on Combos only thirty minutes after taking Joonmyun to his dorm and telling him, _Sorry, hyung, I really can't stay. I have to take a dump and it'll be embarrassing, I swear to God–_ It's the best way to ward Joonmyun off, he supposes, but even that doesn't deter Joonmyun from laughing at him and whispering, "Silly kid. You're really cute." Zitao cocks an eyebrow at that, but at least he doesn't clear his throat in an effort to break the spell and bring Jongin back to reality.

What he _does_ do is snatch the bag of Combos from Jongin, seal it, and make Jongin face him on his bed. "Okay. Talk. I'm all ears," Zitao says. His DS is feet away from him. "I won't comment on anything. I'll just listen."

Jongin takes a deep breath. He doesn't know where to start.

So he narrates the story backwards, starts with the kiss. "And we really kissed this time, tongue and all," he mumbles, voice faint enough that it doesn't echo in his ears but just loud enough for Zitao to hear. Zitao leans closer, eyes wide cheeks tugging up in what looks like a smile behind the hand he clasps on his mouth. "It happened after the program. Remember what we said on air the second time we boarded? That we'll do something really special for the listeners if they make 'DJ Kai' trend at any point in the last ten minutes of the program? The fuckers did it. Just minutes after I said that _and_ even after the show."

Zitao snorts, chuckles. Jongin waits for a few words, but promptly remembers Zitao's statement – no comments. He continues, then, saying, "So we sang the next time we boarded. Hyung looked really… I dunno, nervous? He was sort of shaking before _and_ during the performance and I was kinda enjoying myself so I didn't really pay attention to it until I heard him almost crack–"

Zitao raises an eyebrow at him and draws two lines from his eyes to the base of his cheeks. Jongin shakes his head and says, "No, he didn't cry. But he really looked mortified then. It doesn't suit him, man. It was the worst look on him."

Jongin recalls that split-second of panic in Joonmyun's features, the way his eyes widened not in shock, but in _fear._ He recalls the light tremble in his voice that he was able to salvage by doing five key changes in one long syllable. Recalls the relief in Joonmyun's features when people started tweeting exclamation points and hearts with the hashtag _#DJSuhoFTW_. Recalls the way a smile surfaced on his lips when he finally felt comfortable in his own skin and how it tugged so hard at Jongin's heartstrings, he almost felt like he was going to explode.

"So after signing off, I… sort of apologized. No, I mean, I really did," he continues. "He said it was okay and I didn't know what to do next because he was walking away already and I sort of forced him to answer my question while we were on our way out of the booth."

Zitao raises his hand as if saying, _Okay, I have a question. Break time._ "But the cameras–"

"All turned off. And that happened in the pathway to the exit. It was… dark. So yeah, I asked him why he still did it and he said that he thought it had something to do with saving me? Then–" Jongin scratches the back of his neck, massages it. Just thinking about what happened makes him feel sore all over. "Then he said he couldn't say no and he doesn't… know what to do with me. And then he kissed me."

And then Jongin feels Joonmyun's lips on his again and _shit,_ it makes his insides turn. Makes him want to sprint to the next building just to barge into Joonmyun's shared room with Chanyeol and kiss him again because it feels so good. It _felt_ so good and so right, like there was nothing else that Joonmyun wanted to do at that moment but to kiss him.

"And then?" Zitao asks. "Did you two–"

"We had to join the other guys for dinner. Baekhyun-hyung stole him from me and they were inseparable the whole time," he groans.

Zitao nods, slow and thoughtful. "Did they do any hanky-panky, though? In public? I mean, if they did then that's a clear sign already that–"

"That's the thing," Jongin interrupts. Joonmyun hadn't even touched Baekhyun the whole night save for when Baekhyun almost tripped on his feet on their way back to the school. Baekhyun said it was because he smelled so much of perfume that he was feeling dizzy. Jongin knew it was bullshit; he just wanted to hold Joonmyun's hand. "Baekhyun-hyung… tried to do something, I guess? But Joonmyun-hyung kept pushing him away."

"But in your stories before, he'd reciprocate, right? I mean, even just by… touching Baekhyun-hyung's face or something."

 _It was my face that Joonmyun-hyung touched, not his,_ Jongin wants to argue. He doesn't. Zitao doesn't need to know that. Maybe Baekhyun does, but Jongin doesn't owe him anything. So instead, he says, "Yeah, something like that." He allows himself to fall flat on his back and close his eyes. The thumping in his temples hasn't stopped yet. Maybe it never will. "Sometimes close to that."

"Man, he's weird," Zitao mumbles. "I'm sorry, I know you adore him and all but he's confusing as fuck."

"Adore?" Jongin laughs a little. "I don't know about that."

Adoration is something you feel for a crush, so maybe Zitao's right. Just not completely right, because somewhere between the time Jongin met Joonmyun in the flesh _and_ that moment back in the sound booth, they became friends, helped each other get through academic hurdles and, maybe indirectly, a few obstacles in life. The things Joonmyun taught him about DJing? He was able to apply those in real life. And he'd like to think that the small acts of kindness he'd done for Joonmyun sparked a bit of change in Joonmyun, as well.

Joonmyun doesn't sleep late anymore. Or at least that's what Chanyeol says. He doesn't skip meals anymore, either, because _what would Jonginnie do if he found out you were starving yourself in the name of academics, hyung?_ , Jongin remembers Chanyeol saying. So it's not just adoration. He has a very vague idea of the word for it, for whatever it is that he feels for Joonmyun, but he's not sure if he can come to terms with using it yet. Admitting it to himself will only make it real, and he's not sure if he's ready for a feeling so strong to hit him again and make him plummet to the ground hard and fast.

"You have a 'thing' for him, then," Zitao corrects. "And I think he has a 'thing' for you, too, but… He kinda seems confused, himself."

Zitao lies down beside Jongin, bumping his hips into Jongin's own to make more space on the bed for himself. Half of Zitao's bed is littered with stuffed toys, so Jongin snatches the one closest to him, hugs it close to his chest. It's a cute Pikachu plushie. Fuck Pikachu, really.

"Even this guy can't electrocute me out of confusion," Jongin says, laughing a little. It comes out scratchy, a bit choked. He can feel the strain in his throat.

Zitao grabs another plushie from his collection and tackles Jongin's Pikachu with a Jigglypuff. "Let the power of sparkles rule all, man. Just… have faith, I guess. Hope for the best."

Jongin takes a deep breath. It's a bit more difficult with him lying flat on his back, but that doesn't matter – it's not as if trying to still the heavy thumping in his chest is any easier when he's sitting or standing up, spine snapped straight.

He falls asleep a few quiet minutes after, and wakes up to the sight of a sleeping Zitao beside him, drool pooling on one side. He runs his fingers through Zitao's hair and whispers, "Wish I could be as wise as you are." Zitao leans into the touch, smiling, so Jongin ruffles his hair some more, massages Zitao's scalp. Stays there until Zitao stops moving around and falls into a deeper slumber. He pulls away, then, and scribbles a thank you note, tacking it to Zitao's forehead. He gives Zitao one last look over his shoulder before locking the door behind him.

In the silence of his own room, he stares at his DS and pulls up a different game, loads Dragon Quest instead of Pokemon because he can't even play the game anymore without thinking of Joonmyun – the way he squeals in excitement when they mega-evolve one of the third generation Pokemon, the way the corners of his mouth pull up when they manage to defeat a gym leader hand-in-hand.

The way Joonmyun turns to him with bright eyes and an even brighter smile, snatching all of the air in his lungs and dangling it in front of him, not giving it back until he agrees to have dinner with him. And the way Jongin lets Joonmyun have his way and doesn't ask for anything in return.

♬ ♬ ♬

Jongin spends more time than the usual in the library at the height of midterm week. Zitao's presence makes the white noise more bearable, makes the silence not seem as if it's trying to eat him whole then spit him out soon after. Soojung joins them from time to time, as well, and sometimes even Taemin finds time to sit in their table instead of somewhere else. It's easy to tune out the noise when there's academics to focus on, the pressure of having to be perfect and not make mistakes heavy on his shoulders.

It's easier to flush out unwanted memories, as well, snapshots of a night he both wants to commit to memory forever and to forget.

Soojung stretches her arms over her head and almost hits the back of Jongin's head. She mumbles an apology, tone flat, almost dead, until a text message comes in. Her face lights up almost in an instant, like there's a switch that has been flicked on and has been broken since, never to be turned off again. Soojung wears that same silly grin until the end of their study session, until they have to attend their Introduction to Sound class after lunch. Even the lull of the afternoon does nothing to dampen Soojung's now heightened spirits. It almost makes Jongin want to throw up.

On their way to class, Soojung nudges him in his side, whispering in his ear, "You look dead. What's up?"

Definitely not his dick, he wants to say. He hasn't seen Joonmyun in a few days, but that's not because Joonmyun has been avoiding him. There's always academics to blame but right now, it's _him_ who's making an effort to stay away, it's hilarious. If, before, he was the one who was always seeking Joonmyun out, trying to spend more time with him or at least be within a five-foot radius of him, now the mere thought of being in the same area as Joonmyun is... It doesn't repulse him, but it doesn't make him comfortable, either. It makes him feel weird and unwanted things that he'd rather flush out of his system, then return to come end of the week.

It's like pausing a video halfway through the story because you feel too sleepy and drained to continue then returning to it the following day, feeling refreshed. Renewed. Possibly re-energized and with more enthusiasm to tackle it because you can see clearly now, can see better. The spots that you thought were in black and white before are now in color.

"Just acads. So many things to do, so little time." He lets out a loud exhale, and cracks his neck. The sound makes Soojung wince. At least she knows her hearing's at its prime in time for Sound class. It'll come in handy. "And man, broadcasting week fried my brain. I think I've exhausted every bit of spontaneity in me."

What he means is that broadcasting week exhausted him to the point of sucking out his enthusiasm to ever set foot in the sound booth again. Too many memories are attached to that room, _that hall,_ to the person he constantly boarded with throughout the week. He can't dissociate radio from Joonmyun now. He can't even listen to some songs that they played on air without thinking, _Ah, hyung liked that one,_ or _Hyung looked hilarious jamming to that song; I better listen to Hanson more._ The thoughts would occur to him in the middle of a study session sometimes. Often, there's no good reason. 'Joonmyun Thoughts' occur to him like air in the atmosphere – unavoidable. Essential to living.

"You did well, though," Soojung comments. Beside her, Zitao raises two thumbs up. Jongin's surprised he can even muster a reply after powering through a few tracks for practice editing. "Don't take this the wrong way but I definitely didn't think you'd be that good."

Jongin snorts. "I don't think anyone of us did," he confesses. "I was always the token smart kid with academic talents and nothing else. The… classic dork, yeah."

Soojung rests a palm on his shoulder for a while but quickly regrets it when her other arm, cradling a pile of books, gives away. "Well you've got other talents now, kid." She raises both eyebrows at Jongin and offers him a smile that reaches the corners of her eyes. "Be proud."

Broadcasting training pays off, though, Jongin muses as he sits in Sound class and catches a few cracks and the faintest of noise in the sound wave they're asked to work on. Manually cleaning a sound wave is easy, but when you're limited to just five actions all in all, sound equalizing included, it becomes more difficult than it should be. Jongin manages to nail it three steps in _with_ sound equalizing, determining the noise threshold only after a few playbacks. He finishes the practical exam in thirty minutes and waits outside the room, slumped against the wall.

He doesn't realize that he has already passed out until he feels someone sit down beside him, a smaller body. The scent is familiar, but not so much that Jongin finds himself resting his head on that person's shoulder so easily. It _is_ familiar enough, though, to bring back a few memories – the suffocating scent of panic and arousal and heat in the air, the scent of coffee and a snack bar in one breath. The scent of eucalyptus in a man's hair and his scalp.

The scent of sweat and excitement and coffee breath all in one mix, sliding next to him, inching closer with every breath he takes.

"Sorry," comes a familiar voice when Jongin's body gives a tiny jerk. He looks to his side with wide eyes, but he feels the tension in his eyebrows ease as soon as his vision refocuses. "I tried not moving around that much but... you seemed uncomfortable–" Joonmyun's voice trails off and Jongin finds it fitting to make full use of that opportunity, to surrender to the allure of Joonmyun's shoulders and let fatigue get the better of him. "J-j-jongin?"

"You're comfy," Jongin mumbles. He hears Joonmyun's loud gulp, the hitch in his breath. He hears the loud thumping of his pulse at the back of his ears, as well. "Five minutes. Just. Stay."

This is the closest he's been to Joonmyun in days, the closest ever since that night they were pressed against each other in that narrow corridor. It feels foreign, the light trembling of Joonmyun's body, but at the same time it feels like coming home, albeit having just moved to a new house. It's not as if he's had much opportunity to grab Joonmyun by the wrist and hold him close or back him up against the wall – the midterm madness made it easy to not seek the warmth of Joonmyun's smile, body, lips. Gave Jongin an excuse to escape from whatever it was that _they_ had to face _and_ gave him an excuse to keep himself from trying to figure out that all-encompassing word to describe this feeling.

He takes a deep breath and tilts his head up a little, nose pressed to the underside of Joonmyun's jaw. He feels the shift in Joonmyun's muscles and thinks, _there's no escaping this, Jongin. And you're not running away from this, either, hyung._

"Have you even been getting any rest at all?" Joonmyun asks after a while, once the tension in his shoulders has lifted.

Jongin hums in response, unsure of what to say. He _has_ been getting a few (read: two) hours of sleep on a daily basis, and that's more than enough to get him through most of the tough study sessions. His heart, however, has constantly been running in his chest, banging against its walls in an attempt to escape. At one point, he had to lay off the coffee and substitute it with lemon water which proved to be useful in the long run. Hot chocolate made him feel sleepy and too comfortable in his seat; coffee made him jittery as fuck and reminded him of Joonmyun.

So yes, lemon water has been his savior these past few days. And he _has_ been getting some rest. The question is if he's feeling well-rested or refreshed, and with this set up – Joonmyun threading his fingers through Jongin's hair, tilting his head a little so he can blow hot breath on the crown on Jongin's hair – Jongin can say 'yes' without a doubt in his mind.

"Eating a lot? Playing Pokemon?" Joonmyun continues.

"Yes, and no," Jongin replies. He opens his eyes, pinches Joonmyun in his stomach. Joonmyun makes this tiny giggling sound that sounds a bit like gurgling. It's cute. "I promised, hyung, that I won't play it unless you're around–"

Joonmyun laughs a little. "Well I _have_ been pretty unavailable–"

"Are you, though?" Jongin asks. He shifts in his seat but does sit up straight, not yet. He likes how Joonmyun's warm breath on his scalp feels. It makes him feel warm and fuzzy and full. "Unavailable, I mean. Taken. Or something."

Joonmyun tenses for a moment, then he's massaging Jongin's scalp. Jongin risks a glance at his wrist watch – it's been a good twenty minutes since he's finished the exam. Knowing Zitao's focus and the current state of his stamina, he'll be done in ten minutes, five if he's lucky. Soojung will be done in a minute or two, he's positive. That gives him enough time, though, to move closer, feel the warmth of Joonmyun's body pressed against him even more. This is a warmth he won't mind falling asleep to on a regular basis. Joonmyun's uneven breathing can be the song that sings him to sleep.

"No, I'm not," Joonmyun answers. It's Jongin's turn to tense, eyes bolting open. "I'm not unavailable. But it's... complicated."

Jongin groans. 'Complicated' is supposed to be for exams and academics and _sound waves,_ not for emotions. He doesn't want to deal with 'complicated' right now, during midterm week. It's not that his brain can't handle it – it can, but he can't promise positive results. He can't even train his Pokemon during hell week without overwriting some moves and attacks and he's been playing for, what, five years? Maybe even more? That doesn't come with any complication at all.

"It doesn't have to be complicated, hyung," Jongin says. He wants to move away, remove himself from the fit of their bodies, but that will mean losing the warm presence beside him and Joonmyun falling to his side. Now if they could fix that and make Joonmyun fall elsewhere– "Either you _are_ or you aren't. There shouldn't be any in-betweens."

Joonmyun laughs a little. "I wish it was that simple." He takes a deep breath. "Nothing's ever simple with–"

"Oh hey, oppa." Jongin looks up and meets Soojung in the eye. There's something there, in the heavy gaze that speaks more than just a mix of fatigue and relief that she's finally finished the exam. There's a bit of… surprise? Or maybe amusement. Jongin can't see clearly right now. Maybe that's a sign that he shouldn't even be dealing with non-academic things. "Jongin, you finished early. Don't tell me you got to clean the waves in three actions."

Jongin gives her a wink – or at least the closest to a wink he can muster, because he doesn't want to be engaged in any movement that requires much effort – then holds a peace sign close to his cheeks. "I am the sound master, Kim Jongin!"

Beside him, Joonmyun hums. "Three actions, though? Really? That means you got the noise threshold right on the first try, then cleaned up some… sibilances and plosives on the second?"

Jongin gives Joonmyun a small nod and mumbles an apology when he almost hits Joonmyun in the chin. He's almost forgotten that he has his head on Joonmyun's shoulder; Joonmyun beside him feels like a normal extension of himself.

"And then… equalizing as the last action, is that right?" Joonmyun finishes.

"Yes, yes, and yes," Jongin answers, grinning. The pull at the corners of his mouth doesn't sting, but his throat feels tight and dry, like Joonmyun has his fingers wrapped around that instead of his wrists. "So yes, all the practice clean ups paid off and no, I am _not_ doing sound design for free." He worries his bottom lip. Cleaning up waves doesn't require much effort if your ears are trained to detect even the faintest of noises. But maybe he should charge if he does decide to make money out of editing. "And yes, Soojung, you owe me ice cream."

Joonmyun chuckles this time. Jongin can feel the vibrations of Joonmyun's lips against his scalp. It sends a funny feeling to the pit of his stomach, but that can just be hunger speaking. Joonmyun would be the simmering scream clawing at his throat, threatening to spill from his lips. "I can buy you ice cream."

"You didn't make a bet with me, though?" Jongin replies. He looks up at Joonmyun, meeting Joonmyun's gaze. It almost makes him cross-eyed. Joonmyun does him a favor and closes his eyes with a swipe of his warm hand.

"I owe you a lot," is the only thing Joonmyun says in reply. Soojung rants about distractions in the room and _dammit, I could've gotten it in under five steps!_ Zitao joins them soon after, and Joonmyun tags along with them on their way to the cafeteria to grab their first real meal of the day.

A real meal means bibimbap and copious amounts of kimchi for four people. Joonmyun offers to get them seaweed soup and Jongin only gives him a weak smile in response. When Jongin turns back to his food, he catches Zitao looking at him, eyes sharp and focused. "Don't say it. I'm telling you, if you're thinking of saying something, _don't_ ," he declares. He feels a scratch in his throat, just near the tonsils. He feels something lodge itself in his throat. "I'm serious. Just… let it pass."

"I'm not doing anything," Zitao mumbles. He still has food in his mouth, and it garbles his speech. Jongin gestures at the corners of Zitao's mouth, and Zitao plucks the stray grains of rice from his lips. "Soojung isn't doing anything, either. I mean, we're just sitting here, watching you two flirt or whatever and waiting for you to 'legit coo' at him–"

Jongin rolls his eyes. "Shut up, Zitao."

Joonmyun isn't that far from them, just a few feet away, but he's balancing four bowls on a tray. For a minute, Jongin is concerned about the welfare of the soup – Joonmyun has shitty balance, after all – but that gets flushed out of his system when Joonmyun meets his gaze and smiles at him. Something in his stomach tumbles _again,_ and _shit,_ he muses, he's got to grow up. Only kids feel all sorts of weird things for their crushes and _not-just-crushes._

"You can help him," Soojung begins. She gives him a shit-eating grin and Jongin has never wanted to threaten Soojung with putting too much gochujang in her tteokbokki in his entire life. "We won't judge. Or laugh at you. Or coo. At least we'll try not to."

"You two are _the worst,_ " he says, seething. He stands from his seat and helps Joonmyun with the tray because apparently, he also got them coffee. Jongin doesn't even drink coffee when he isn't studying but maybe he should, now. Joonmyun tastes like coffee, anyway, and he liked that in the dark. He likes the way Joonmyun's mouth tastes of so many things so uniquely Joonmyun. "I'll find new friends next sem and _you two_ will regret it."

Zitao waves a hand in the air and dismisses whatever threats Jongin has, then returns to eating his ramyun. Jongin's all bark and no bite, anyway. Or maybe he does bite. Just baby dog bites that don't sting much.

Joonmyun hangs around a little longer and does Jongin the favor of finishing his black coffee for him. "Sorry. I keep forgetting you like sweet things," Joonmyun mumbles, eyebrows furrowed a little and a small, apologetic smile on his lips. He isn't even supposed to have things like this memorized but _okay,_ Jongin supposes. If a kiss means Joonmyun's supposed to regard him in a different manner now because he's decided to take action on whatever feelings he's harboring for Jongin, then fine. Jongin doesn't mind.

He doesn't. It just makes him feel more antsy and restless because he knows he stands a chance. He knows that there's a 1% chance of triumphing over Baekhyun if they _do_ duke it out for Joonmyun's heart. Jongin can imagine it now – a Pokemon battle sequence with a level 5 Magikarp recently acquired through the guy in the Pokemon Center versus a level 80 Gyarados who has just mega-evolved. Who cares if Gyarados looks like a lame shrimp when he goes from hero to a mega hero; he's still more powerful and intimidating that way. And here Jongin is, flapping about, trying to take out the many Baekpponents in his way so that he can finally evolve into a Gyarados. Maybe then he'll have a bigger chance at carving himself a happy place in Joonmyun's heart.

 _This isn't a game, Jongin,_ he reminds himself. Opposite him, Zitao says, "The kimchi's not doing anything to you. Stop staring at it like it's trying to attack you or something."

He sees Baekhyun's face in the flimsy piece of kimchi. He pokes it with his chopsticks before popping it in his mouth. That's the closest he can get to 'revenge'.

Joonmyun excuses himself for a consultation session with Jonghyun, and Jongin bolts from his seat and offers to accompany him to the faculty. He gives Zitao and Soojung a careful look, saying, "I'll deal with you two later," then ruffles Zitao's hair before he leaves. Joonmyun only laughs at him, doesn't even tell him off for making Zitao shriek a little at the mess Jongin has made. Zitao was asking for it, really; Joonmyun hadn't asked Jongin to tag along with him, but a part of Jongin wants to believe that Joonmyun wants to ask for something that he just can't express in words.

"You didn't have to, you know," Joonmyun mumbles as they walk along the corridor. He pulls Jongin close to his side when Jongin almost bumps into someone. Jongin whispers a 'thank you' in response. "You… probably should've stayed there with your friends or gone back to your dorm to rest–"

"And if you really wanted to see Kim-sonsaengnim then we wouldn't be walking along this corridor," Jongin replies. He stops in front of Joonmyun, smiling a little. His eyes feel heavy but his heart feels oddly light, especially when he sees Joonmyun's shoulders fall forward. "What do you need, hyung?"

Joonmyun leans against the wall closest to him and lets out a loud exhale. There's fatigue in the way his cheeks pull down even when he breathes back in, weariness in the way he tries to smile, tries really hard but falls a bit short. "What you said earlier, about not complicating things–" He bites the inside of his cheek and Jongin finds himself doing the same. "You're right. It shouldn't be this messy. But I guess that's… not my style? Something I've yet to learn, at least."

Jongin nods in thought. He wants to ask, _what are you trying to say, hyung?_ but that will just drive Joonmyun away. As it is, Joonmyun already seems so torn, tense and taut like the string of a bow. Like he wants to be in two places at the same time even if crossing the border of the other means he'll only get himself into trouble. Jongin knows how that feels, the push and pull of emotions inside you. It's more difficult than boarding without any idea of what to discuss. It's more difficult than finding the right noise gate and making sure that no dissonance to a good wave form interrupts the sound.

"What I'm trying to say is… that I'm a mess, and that you probably shouldn't be getting yourself involved in messy things," Joonmyun finishes. He clenches his fists, knuckles turning pale, then he looks up at Jongin. His eyes look more solemn than ever. Tired, worn out. Like he hasn't slept in days and has been working on his thesis the whole time, maybe even more. "You're a wonderful kid and–"

"I'm not a kid, hyung," Jongin argues. He takes Joonmyun's hands in his, shivering when he feels the cool press of Joonmyun's skin against his warm palms. "So you can't tell me what and what not to do. This is my life, hyung, and if I want to get involved in this 'mess' then that's my problem!" He laughs, albeit bitter, and the sound claws at his throat. It comes out scratchy. _This_ is the noise, Jongin thinks, the dissonance. This is the type of sound that should be cleaned up through the noise gate. This isn't music. "And I can deal with it, hyung. I can deal with feeling all these weird things for you and trying not to overwhelm you with… whatever I'm feeling. I can try to control myself, hyung. I _can_ be not an inconvenience."

Joonmyun tears his eyes from Jongin's and looks to his side. Jongin reaches out, tracing the curve of Joonmyun's cheek with his fingers. "You're not an inconvenience," Joonmyun replies. "You've never been one. You're just–"

 _A kid. Your biggest fan. And fan-idol relationships never end up happy,_ Jongin finishes in his head. He takes a deep breath, then, bracing himself for the inevitable. It's only a matter of time until Joonmyun tells him off for being a weird and creepy fan, anyway. Jongin saw it coming from a mile way.

"You're too precious, Jongin. Too important." Joonmyun traps his bottom lip between his teeth, then presses his lips thinly together. "You shouldn't be a mess. Don't– Don't be like me, Jongin. Save yourself while you still can."

Jongin laughs. "What if I don't want to be saved? Or what if–" He gulps hard, and he catches Joonmyun following the bobbing motion of his Adam's apple. _You can't tell me you don't feel the same way, hyung._ "What if you're the only who can save me?"

Joonmyun takess a deep, shaky breath, air passing noisily through his nose. "Then I'm warning you now, Jongin: we'll drown. And it won't be easy swimming back up."

Drowning can mean a lot of things – wallowing in the pit of something awful or delightful. It can mean the end. It can mean that if Jongin does continue being his stupid self then he's just setting himself up for failure and Joonmyun's just letting him know that. _FYI, Jongin, you're digging your own grave by falling in love with me._ But there's the element of 'we', like if Jongin ever waved his hands above the surface, Joonmyun would take the plunge and try to save him even if he didn't know how to swim. All Jongin had to do was to say the magic word and Joonmyun would jump right in without thinking twice.

"Hit me with your best shot, hyung," Jongin says. Joonmyun purses his lips, jabs him in the stomach, but it doesn't sting. It doesn't even leave a dull ache in his muscles. Joonmyun jabs him again, like a morse code that Jongin can't understand. "I may not be the best swimmer but I can try. For you." He doesn't say, _for us._

"Silly kid," Joonmyun whispers. He leans forward, resting his forehead on Jongin's chest, then repeats. "You silly kid, I don't know what to do with you."

"Keep me around, hyung," Jongin replies, poking Joonmyun's cheek. "This kid won't be going anywhere without his favorite playmate."

Joonmyun looks up at him, lips tugged down in a frown now, but there are lights dancing in his eyes and Jongin just knows, he _knows_ that Joonmyun's struggling to keep this look plastered on his face. So he pulls away, drops his hands to his side, then tugs at Joonmyun's wrist. "Come on, I'll take you to the faculty room," he says. "I want to see sonsaengnim, too."

Joonmyun cocks an eyebrow at him. "I thought you hated cinematography?"

Jongin lets out a loud exhale. "Nah. The hate's just for show," he says. "I love it. A lot."

He keeps his eyes glued to Joonmyun's own, but if anything it's the pull of Joonmyun's gaze that's keeping him there, pinned in place, with nowhere to escape to. So he stares right back into Joonmyun's eyes and gets lost in them, drowning with Joonmyun.

Joonmyun wriggles his hand free of Jongin's grip and slips his fingers between Jongin's own, instead. Jongin forgets to breathe.

♬ ♬ ♬

Wednesday marks the end of the midterm torture. It isn't as bad as Jongin had imagined – he was supposed to still have an exam on Friday, but the professor decided to hold practicals on Wednesday, instead. He finished his first and second exams for two different subjects early (read: ten minutes before the bell, also ten minutes before Soojung did), so that gave him enough time to recharge in between classes. That gives him two free days this week, which is more than enough rest for him. With the past few weeks being rife with tension and pressure to deliver and do their jobs well, even just a five-minute respite will do. Sleeping was a leisure that time.

Now, he thinks as he collapses in bed after his last exam, he won't have to feel guilty about getting more rest than necessary and oversleeping. Thank God for free days. Thank God for stress-free days, as well.

He wakes up to a Viber message from Sehun – three different messages of varying states of urgency. The first is a series of sad emoticons, and the second message says _aaaaaa why is life like this idk i'm rly sad_. The third is more concise and curt, straightforward. It's where Jongin gets the strongest sense of urgency, though – _hey jongin, u free to skype?_

 _hey bro sorry just woke up,_ he types in reply. It's only eight in the morning; the best breakfast treats won't be available until nine in the morning. He has time to Skype.

He boots his laptop, then, and goes online on the messenger. It takes no more than five minutes for Sehun's Skype icon to turn from white to green, and for a notification to pop up at a corner of his screen. Jongin clenches his fists. It's been so long since he's last seen Sehun, so long since they've last talked to each other. If Sehun found a way to make time for Jongin then this must be important. Maybe he's in deep shit, got caught doing drugs or fucking a girl in public. Option 'deep shit' seems more plausible.

The familiar tune of a Skype call blares in his speakers, and he hits the green phone button as soon as he sees it. "Hey bud," he says, voice barely above a whisper. It's not deliberate – his throat feels so tight and dry right now, he might as well be hoarse. He'd rather be hoarse right now than to talk to Sehun in this state, or in any state at all.

The display blurs for a second, then Sehun's face appears on screen. He looks up at the camera and gives him a weak wave. "Hey. I missed you."

Jongin's first instinct is to push himself away from his laptop; his second, to bury his face in his hands and will himself to disappear. He manages not to, though, but his heart's still a mess. It's been weeks since he last saw Sehun, since he last heard this voice and tried to play it in his head, again and again until it lulled him to sleep. And while in all those weeks, he's either been busy with school or with Joonmyun, Sehun's ghost pops up in his mind at inopportune times – while he's taking an exam, while he's studying, during one of the study sessions and when Joonmyun's gaze lingers a second longer than the usual. You'd think that a long period of absence will work wonders on a healing heart but _it doesn't._ Not for Jongin. If anything, it's just aggravated his longing for–

 _For what?_ Jongin asks himself. _You know you won't you get what you want from him, ever, Jongin, so what are are you doing? Why are you doing this?_

He raises a hand, motions to reach out but props his chin on it, instead. He has to help himself, somehow. Circumstance won't always be on his side; he has to take conscious steps to distance his heart from Sehun but keep his body here, right where Sehun needs him.

"Haven't seen you in a while," Jongin replies after a while. He takes a deep breath. "You look _bad._ Are you drunk?"

Sehun laughs a little. Bites his lower lip a bit too hard that he leaves a bright, red mark there when he lets his lower lip go. He looks awful, to say the least. He looks wrecked and helpless and hopeless. This isn't anything like the Sehun he knows, because they've sailed through every tough time in life together. They've almost failed exams together, they've risen from the ashes together. And if there's anyone between the two of them who can handle stress better, it's Sehun. If Jongin complains about not getting enough sleep and powering through the day like a zombie, Sehun doesn't. Instead, he'd just work and work until he fell asleep then still be rife with life (or the closest to it) in the morning.

But this Sehun– Jongin doesn't know this guy in front of him. All he knows is that his heart feels heavy and that if he could reach out and hold Sehun closer to his chest right now, he would. He'd do anything for Sehun–

"I had a few bottles earlier," Sehun says, then hiccups. He sounds awful, as well. Like he's been thoroughly used by life and circumstance. "I bombed two midterms, Jongin. Well at least I felt like I did. I'm at the brink of losing my scholarship and–" Sehun rests his head on his clasped hands, voice coming out in low, choked sobs. "I've ruined my life just I thought I could do everything–"

Sehun takes him through the entire experience. He met a girl on his first day in school, fell in love with her. She's bright, talented, a great conversationalist. Jongin's only lacking in one out of three. Attraction was fast, and it pulled them closer and wove them together so tight that Sehun couldn't escape even if he wanted to. Even if he tried so hard. The thing was, he was drunk on being needed by this woman as much as he needed her. He didn't screw up two midterms – he got caught letting the girl copy. And when they were sent to the dean's office, the girl wouldn't take his side, even put all the blame on him.

The result? A week-long suspension from class. He'd miss all 24 units of them after midterm. He has a good enough class standing in most that he won't be in trouble, but _fuck_ if that event doesn't affect his performance in class. It's not the blow he takes to his report card that bothers him the most; it's the blow to the ego that hurts. Here he was, trying to enjoy the best of both worlds only for all the nice things in his life to be taken away by that one girl who ruined him, made him think that he was the king of the world when, in fact, he was like everyone else – a student struggling to make it through college.

"You… you could've told me what you were going through, man," Jongin says. _And then what?_ It's not as if he can make sure that Sehun drops all the hanky panky and starts getting serious with everything he does. Doesn't let anyone in his life again for fear of getting played one more time and ending up a mess of limbs. It's hard with all this distance between them. And really, he'd drop everything and take the first flight to London if he could, but–

"It's not your fault, Jongin. You couldn't have done anything, anyway," Sehun says. At the back of Jongin's mind, he hears, _if you just pushed through with your promise to take the London scholarship with me then this wouldn't have happened. You'd have kept me on track and I'd have done the same for you. And maybe, just maybe, we could have–_

Jongin takes a deep breath. No room for regrets now, at this late a stage. What's done is done. He tries to wipe the sad look off his own face, takes a deep breath and recalibrates. It shouldn't be too difficult now that he's had ample sleep, but the image of Sehun's face, so worn out and distraught, haunts him like an old ghost. Digs up old memories of when he couldn't even look at Sehun the way he used to, without any malice, because how would Sehun feel if he found out that everytime they bathed together, Jongin's eyes would linger on the dip of his back, the swell of his ass, or the grooves of his stomach?

 _Focus,_ he tells himself. That always seems to work. He opens his eyes, slowly this time, like if he opens them all at once he'll be hit by some strong light that will just blind him and bind him to this moment. _Focus, Jongin. You've got this. Come on–_ "What do you… Is there anything you can do to get back on track? Do extra acad work for extra points?" Jongin asks.

Sehun's eyes widen _just a little,_ but that can just be their faulty connection. Jongin latches onto that, nonetheless, a sliver of hope in the darkness. "I guess I could ask my professors if I could… do a bit of extra work. Or take my midterms again, but different problem sets? I dunno." Sehun scratches the back of his neck, but it's not the same slow motion like it's taking too much effort for him to move or even breathe. "There's no telling if they'll say yes but I guess it's worth a shot."

Jongin lets out a loud exhale. "No harm in trying," he offers.

Sehun cocks an eyebrow at him and the ghost of a smile tugs up the corners of his lips. "At least use a different line, kid," Sehun mumbles. "I may be buzzed but I can recognize the Sehun quotes from a mile away."

Jongin chuckles, and that triggers something in Sehun – sends a tickling sensation up his throat and elicits soft laughter from him? Or makes the small smile on his lips bloom into a wide grin that reaches the corners of his eyes? Whatever it is, Jongin can't tell yet, but all that matters right now is the light flush creeping from Sehun's neck up to the underside of his jaw, his cheeks, filling the rest of his face with color. There are still dark circles under his eyes, yes, but those are battle scars. And those kinds of marks don't just fade so easily. It will take time, Jongin supposes – weeks, months, or years, it doesn't matter. The truth is, all wounds heal. Some people just like the pain more than most and that takes away time from getting back to tip-top shape in the shortest time possible.

"Well, I guess you could say I learned from the best," Jongin says after a while.

Sehun's lips quirk up. "So you're saying– You're _finally_ admitting–"

"That my mom is the best," Jongin quickly says. He sticks his tongue out at Sehun. "Of course she'd give birth to someone amazing. So you, Oh Sehun, should be damn honored that I am your friend and I'm stuck with you for the rest of my life."

The hard furrow of Sehun's eyebrows eases, and the crinkles at the corners of his eyes ease just a little. He looks more relaxed, more at ease, but his mouth is twisted as if he's caught between two things, tempted to say something and nothing at the same time. Sehun opts for the latter as he always does, shaking his head in response instead. So Jongin doesn't prod. Basks in this brand of silence that can only be theirs. He keep his chin propped on his hands and doesn't reach out across the screen. And Sehun stays there, on the other side, unmoving but moved, sounding more alive than he's been weeks.

♬ ♬ ♬

Relapse hits him ten times harder during lunch. It's feels a lot like one of those volleyball balls hitting him in the face during lunch break back in high school, or taking a shot to the groin during basketball class. Or a combination of both, really, because he feels sore all over and there's a dull ache in his chest. He stares at his food with very little interest and wonders if he can transfer emotions from the heart to a piece of tteok. He doesn't have to wait around for an answer – he knows it's stupid.

Zitao pushes a glass of cold chocolate drink in his direction and mentions, "No caramel because that's overkill." Jongin looks to his side and offers a weak smile.

It takes a while to finish his food the same way that it takes longer than the usual for his heart to catch up with his mind – Sehun still gets him in all the right places, and even in the wrong ones. Right after the call, he was reduced to a giggling mess on his bed. While taking a shower, he couldn't still stop laughing. It was only once he'd stepped out of the water, toweling himself dry, that he'd realized that if that didn't happen to Sehun, he might have not called at all. It makes sense – when you're busy and shit suddenly hits you, that's the only time you take a break and realize that you need to breathe. Jongin _is_ that respite. And break time's over for Sehun, now.

"I feel used," Jongin groans. He takes a sip of the drink and huffs. "I thought you got me the one with whipped cream."

"FYI, that's supposed to be mine and I just gave it to you because you looked miserable?" Zitao answers. He wraps his fingers around the body of the drink, then pinches the straw still stuck between Jongin's lips. "If you don't want it then give it back! You don't have to force yourself to like it."

Jongin looks up, then looks intently at Zitao. "What did you say?"

Zitao furrows his eyebrows, but soon he raises one of them without easing the crease in his forehead by relaxing the other. "I said you don't have to force yourself to drink this if you don't like it without whipped cream. You'll just end up regretting the state of your tummy after."

"But it's still a chocolate drink. And you can't throw that away. I mean–" Jongin worries his bottom lip. So maybe that's it – he's the plain Jane version of the chocolate drink with whipped cream. He doesn't even have caramel drizzle on himself and Sehun _loves_ caramel. But he just can't set aside his drink preference just to make way for Sehun. When you get used to something and find yourself falling in love with it, you stick to that. If something makes you feel good about yourself, you stick to it. That's why Zitao loves the ramyun in the cafeteria and Joonmyun likes his kimchi-stuffed mulmandu . That's why Soojung sits beside Chanyeol when they grab a meal outside. That's why Jongin keeps coming back to Joonmyun like a lost puppy – because Joonmyun has his favorite bone and he won't let it go.

Zitao nudges him in his side and says, "It's just a drink, Jongin."

"But it's my favorite drink."

Zitao takes a deep breath, like his patience is thinning and it's taking him every bit of restraint to not his Jongin on the back of his head. "It's _just a drink._ "

It's just a drink. Drink preference changes. Jongin can't be stuck here forever.

He ends up taking the drink to the club room after, and buying one for Zitao before going on residency duty. He swipes his ID and the lock comes off with a dull click. There's light shuffling of feet inside. He hopes it isn't Baekhyun and Joonmyun.

"Oh, hey," comes a familiar voice. Jongin's ears perk up when he catches the familiar tone. "You're here."

Jongin tries to wear his best smile as he makes his way inside, shutting the door behind him. He hadn't expected someone else to be in the room at that time, but then Joonmyun kinda lives in this place sometimes that it shouldn't be a surprise anymore to find him here at odd hours. "Hey," he says in return, waving a little. It feels weird with Joonmyun in clothes too casual that he might as well be in his dorm room instead of here.

Joonmyun follows Jongin's gaze, then, and grabs a cardigan when he catches on. "Oh, sorry, I was– I slept here, hoping to get a lot of work done, because Chanyeol and the others were in my room doing their mixing thing and–"

"It's okay, hyung," Jongin replies. He looks around the room and takes a seat on the couch near Joonmyun's table. It smells a bit like him – coffee and eucalyptus, a combination of scents that Jongin has come to associate with a weird mix of peace and panic. It fits Joonmyun. "I hope you got a lot done. You seem–" _At home in this place,_ he means to say, but he catches sight of the mess on the desk and Joonmyun's laptop sitting on top the pile of papers. Maybe not home, then, but the outfit just takes away the academic feel from the entire scenario. "You seem to have had a productive night?"

"Yeah, I'm down to the last few sections of my paper." Joonmyun stretches his arms over his head and his shirt rides up a little, revealing a hint of the flesh underneath the shirt. Joonmyun's skin is glowing under this light, and Joonmyun _is_ glowing even with his hair all tousled and mussed up, even with his cheeks red and marked with tiny squares. He must have fallen asleep on his laptop. Good thing it hadn't broken down or anything. "I'm hoping to get it done before the break so that I'll have time to revise, if Kim-sonsaengnim ever catches errors here and there."

"Oh wow." Jongin nods in thought. Just a few weeks ago, Joonmyun made him do some mock broadcast that was supposed to help in his thesis, and now he's _almost done_ with it. And he hasn't skipped on the weekly updates in his Youtube channel. "You're a monster, hyung. How do you even– How do you manage to do all these things? I mean, live a double-life and all?"

Joonmyun laughs, sinking back in his seat and making himself comfortable by folding his legs under his weight. "You just get used to it," Joonmyun says. He transfers his laptop to a paper-less side of his desk, then shuffles the papers together in a neat pile. He has some trouble fixing some of the papers with staple wires, but in two minutes flat he transforms his desk from being a wasteland to a real desk. One where humans can work on. "The weekly recommendations are my excuse to go online and unwind by looking for new music. And well, this paper…" Joonmyun laughs a little. "I worked on the same thing last year but had to stop halfway through because of something. So it only makes sense that rewriting and finishing it won't take as much time as it did before."

Jongin stops rummaging through his things and looks up at Joonmyun, meeting his gaze. "You stopped studying, hyung?"

"I wouldn't say I stopped? I just dropped my second thesis class, then focused on the other subjects." He takes a deep breath, clenches and unclenches his hands with his palms rested on the body of his laptop. "Two years before that, I shifted from film to broadcasting, so you could just imagine the delays." He laughs, then, albeit a bit scratchy. It sounds fuller than before, though. Jongin wonders, then, what the hitch of the breath is for. "I just… needed to focus on my thesis and nothing else. I need to be in a certain state of mind to write it properly."

Jongin blinks a few times, then nods when he can't find the right words to say. "Seems scary," Jongin comments after a while, once Joonmyun has stopped playing with his hands.

"It is," Joonmyun replies. "Especially when you take a part of your life and turn it into the anchor of your thesis." He shakes his head this time, like he can't believe himself or what he's saying. "Then you torture yourself by constantly returning to certain points in that part of your life that scar you because that what your thesis is about."

"And the worst part is that you have to take an objective stand on the matter?" Jongin asks. Joonmyun nods, lips pressed thinly together.

Jongin has half the mind to ask what even crossed Joonmyun's crazy mind when he decided to do that, but there are some things better left unsaid – the understated attraction between them _and_ between Jongin and Sehun, the fact that Baekhyu and Joonmyun have a thing going on but they won't dare put a label to whatever they have. The fact that Soojung is completely enamoured with Chanyeol for an unknown reason and that she succumbs to Chanyeol at the first sign of a request. The fact that Kyungsoo tries twice as hard to engage in conversation with people when Sunyoung is around.

Jongin waits – for the thought at the back of his mind to dissipate completely, for Joonmyun to drop the subject and change the topic. For the words threatening to stumble from his lips to stop haunting him and pounding at the back of his teeth, waiting for an enunciation. But it doesn't happen. Instead, Joonmyun just stays silent there, staring at his monitor, worrying his lower lip.

"Do you… want to talk about it, hyung?" Jongin asks.

Something flickers in Joonmyun's eyes. He meets Jongin's careful gaze and asks, "Are you sure you want to know? Sometimes… Sometimes it's better if you don't know things." He chuckles. "Keeps the magic in place, right there," he adds, then taps his temples. "Sometimes I just–"

Jongin clenches his fists. Maybe the magic isn't what either of them need right now. Magic clouds judgment sometimes. And besides, what's there to hide? They've practically rubbed up against each other right after broadcast. It's like peeling off a layer of yourself, showing a more vulnerable side of you to the other. Down goes wall number one.

Jongin repeats, slower this time, "Do _you_ want to talk about it?"

Joonmyun lets out a sigh. "I guess so," he whispers. He swallows hard, then says, "I owe you an explanation after making you board as part of my thesis, after all."

Jongin leans forward, hands clasped together. He props his chin there and grins. "Hit me, hyung. I'm all yours."

To say that Joonmyun's life two, three years ago was messy is an understatement – it was chaotic. Joonmyun tells him about his parents getting into an accident on a rainy spring day. It's weird to be celebrating someone's death anniversary but they'd agreed to meet up for dinner for that, to commemorate the death of Joonmyun's brother. Then something came up at school and his parents ended up volunteering to pick him up from the university since the campus is on the way, anyway.

"They were supposed to turn a corner. They were, what, two blocks away? And then some black car came speeding past the red light and ran into my parents' car. Smashed our car and his right into a lamppost." Joonmyun takes a deep breath and does something, _anything_ with his nails – bites at the corners, brushes his nails together – in an effort to distract himself from the pain of the memory. "They could've survived if they got out at once. Or at least they would've had a chance of surviving, but the asshole driver walked up to them and talked shit on them while they were writhing in pain in the car."

Jongin feels his throat tighten, feels his chest constrict. He's not supposed to know these things. These are… personal, the type Joonmyun would probably only tell his closest friends, not some freshman who'd walked up to him months ago and told him that he was his biggest fan. Jongin isn't even sure what they're supposed to be, if they're just 'really close friends' and not more.

He gulps down hard. Joonmyun's lips are trembling and Jongin can see beads of tears at the corners of Joonmyun's eyes. They don't fall down his cheeks. Instead, Joonmyun blinks them away.

"Then one bad thing led to another. The car started leaking gas and _of course_ it would be so convenient to have a live wire in the area. And then the car blew up. The flames ate up my parents' bodies and the asshole just stood there, watching." Joonmyun snorts. "Turns out he's some hotshot government official who was rushing to get to a meeting, using his number code to bypass traffic lights and end lives."

"Hyung–" Something lodges itself in Jongin's throat and whatever he's supposed to say next gets choked down. He reaches out, then, and Joonmyun offers a small smile in return. Wheels himself closer to Jongin while sitting on the computer chair.

"And you know how the media– How the media plays these things up–" Joonmyun chokes a little in his speech when he takes another deep breath. "They were pointing their fingers at us, telling the court that it was _my parents'_ fault that they got into the crash. I mean, they were in the right of way. It's obvious – the impact would've been on the left side of the car had the government guy's car not been the one to run into ours. It's so– All the facts were pointing to the government official but since he was _in that post–_ "

"He fucked you guys up," Jongin finishes. He holds out his hand, then rests his palm on Joonmyun's own to still Joonmyun's shaking. "So you… shifted from film to broadcasting, something you associate closely with media to–"

"–To try to change the system from the inside. Try to fix things starting with us 'gatekeepers'." Joonmyun leans back in his seat but doesn't pull his hand away. Instead, he splays out his fingers and hooks the pads on the tips of Jongin's nails. The first contact is cold, but he can feel Joonmyun's skin slowly getting warm, can feel his muscles relaxing a little. "But it's hard, you know? It's like trying to change the cycle of life or… tweaking some things in the reproduction cycle. The industry is so sick, and the lies of the government make it even more wretched and sickening."

"The 'mean world syndrome'," Jongin says. Joonmyun looks up, then, eyes wide, like he didn't see that coming. Or maybe he had, just not in this situation. Jongin finds it easier to explain himself in academic terms because there are no emotions involved there. Where feelings are involved, his ability to construct cohesive sentences goes haywire. "Our professor in History of FIlm kept mentioning that, that we have to be extra careful of the message we want to relay _and_ the means by which we relay them because media has become a way of education people already. It's not… It's not the same old entertainment platform that it was years ago."

"Lee Jinki? Is that the name of your professor?"

Jongin nods. "You know him, hyung?"

"He… pretty much guided me even before I started writing my thesis," Joonmyun explains. "Him and Kim-sonsaengnim, they were my mentors. Helped me to find an objective approach to tackle this topic without wanting to thrash about every few minutes." Joonmyun ends with a chuckle.

Jongin gets the strangest mental image of Joonmyun flailing about, arms in the air and out of control. It isn't supposed to be funny – Joonmyun has just shared him something so heart-wrenching that he'd probably be weeping had it not been for the fact that Joonmyun's trying hard to keep it together – but there's an air of sincerity to Joonmyun's laughter. It's almost as if he means it, that the chuckle was heart-felt and is his attempt at patching up the scars in his chest. So he smiles a little as he says, "That's really weird, hyung. I can't… imagine you thrashing about."

"Not in my equity, isn't it?" Joonmyun says. The hard corners of his mouth have softened considerably, and the corners of his eyes are dry. His eyes are still glistening, though, and his lips are still quivering. "Star student Kim Joonmyun, throwing a tantrum – ah, that would make the headlines in our school paper."

Jongin shakes his head and tightens his grip on Joonmyun's hand. That makes Joonmyun's rough laughter subside, makes Joonmyun look at him and nothing else. "Are you sure you're okay now, hyung? I mean, your thesis, and then broadcasting week last week, and then–"

Joonmyun cocks an eyebrow at him. "And then?"

"And then–" _This,_ their twisted relationship. And then there's whatever he's supposed to have with Baekhyun. And then there's Joonmyun leaning closer until their foreheads bump, until the tips of their noses touch. And then there's the sweet allure of Joonmyun's lips just a breath, a decision away.

"And then this," Jongin finally says, all in one breath. He blows hot air a bit too hard on Joonmyun's nose and Joonmyun closes his eyes, laughter bubbling on his lips. "Which we… promised to fix after my midterms and it's _after midterms_ now–"

"But my paper's not done yet," Joonmyun hums.

Jongin groans. "Dammit," he grumbles. He can feel the vibrations of Joonmyun's laughter on his skin. "Fine."

Joonmyun pulls away, still laughing, but the lack of warmth doesn't bother Jongin as much anymore. It's still there, in the link of their fingers, in the press of Joonmyun's knees on Jongin's inner thigh, in the heat of Joonmyun's gaze, assessing. He keeps his hands in this web a little longer and then pulls away when his phone sounds off. He sees a message from Zitao come in, one that's asking, _hey sorry saw this late. how's ur sehun thing? how's ur heart bro?_

There's still a dull ache in his chest, left and center, but it doesn't bother him as much anymore. He thinks back on Zitao's statement – _If you don't like it then give it back._ Let it go. Help yourself feel better by dropping baggages at the first sign of excess weight because really, who else would know if he's packed just the right amount of things for the next leg of his adventure? He would know when it's best to drop his bags and get rid of whatever he doesn't need anymore – the plushie Sehun gave him back in fifth grade, or maybe that 'couple jacket' that he and Sehun got before moving from middle school to high school. Or maybe that email that's been sitting in his inbox for _years_ already, an image taken years ago. In a past that he and Sehun have supposedly grown out of,

"I was supposed to get things done, y'know," he teases Joonmyun later, when they're sitting side-by-side on the couch. Joonmyun's reading a print out of an article he found online, and he looks up at Jongin to meet his gaze. Jongin can feel the light shift of his muscles in the tight press of their bodies, in the way Joonmyun's lips brush against the underside of his jaw. "I was supposed to study but you _distracted me–_ "

"And I was supposed to _finish my thesis,_ but you came," Joonmyun retorts, then cranes his neck until Jongin can feel the heat of Joonmyun's lips on his skin. He swallows hard. "And made me talk about my life." Joonmyun heaves a sigh. "Now I have to re-read my material because I forgot everything already."

Jongin tries to summon soft laughter, but his best effort only yields a scratchy chuckle. He settles with that and says, " _Focus,_ hyung," voice lilting just before the last syllable. Joonmyun lingers a little longer, then pulls away, sits back up, straightens in his seat and goes back to reading.

Jongin looks at Joonmyun and bites the inside of his cheek. He pulls up Zitao's message and types, _i'm good, don't worry. i'll be alright. :)_

♬ ♬ ♬

He wakes up to the feeling of someone's fingers in his hair. His first instinct is to freeze, hold his breath, open his eyes wide and look around him; his second, to lean into the touch because it feels so intimate, so familiar. He shifts a little in his seat, then, and feels a dull ache in his side. Feet away, the wall clock reads eight in the evening. He's been out for a few hours already, and his readings are nowhere to be found.

 _Shit,_ he thinks. He paid for those photocopied readings. He won't borrow Zitao's notes because he's sure as hell that he won't be able to understand a thing. Zitao uses these weird doodles and scribbles in whatever he writes on his notebook, after all.

"You're awake," comes a soft, familiar voice. Jongin lets out a loud exhale and closes his eyes, purely on instinct, and allows himself to lean into the warmth pressed to his side. Joonmyun's warmer than the usual, and his shoulders aren't as tense as before. Giving into the allure of Joonmyun's touch, Jongin nuzzles Joonmyun's shoulder. Joonmyun repays him in kind with laughter. "I was beginning to think you were going to be out cold the whole night."

Jongin groans, but for the most part it comes out as a low whine. "Hmmsorry. Did I…" He yawns. "Did I drool on you."

"Nope," Joonmyun says, voice so soft that he could be whispering. Joonmyun drops his readings on his lap, then reaches out to trace the curve of Jongin's cheek with his free hand. "Slept well?"

The real answer would be no, because his back and his side hurt so much that he can't even sit up straight. Another real answer would be yes, _because I heard someone singing to me in my sleep, and he sounded good._ Joonmyun has stopped massaging his scalp, and his other hand has come to cup his cheek. Jongin lifts his head a little, and Joonmyun tilts his head in tandem with Jongin's own like they're rehearsing a dance for the very first time. Or singing with each other – yes, it sounds like a good enough harmonization of two amateur singers. Joonmyun's movements are slow, tentative, and he can feel the light tremble of Joonmyun's fingers on his skin. "Mhmm," Jongin says, then, "I had a really nice dream."

Joonmyun laughs a little and pulls Jongin closer, then presses a soft kiss to Jongin's forehead. "Good. Because you looked really lost and tired earlier."

Jongin jerks a little. It isn't from the prickling sensation of Joonmyun's lips on his skin, or the way Joonmyun is holding him, each touch so soft and gentle. His stomach lurches, just a tiny tumble that's enough to make him wince. There's a flash of worry across Joonmyun's features and then it's gone, replaced instead by the violent shake of Joonmyun's hand on his cheek. There's enough force in it that he feels himself being pulled back to shore, a rush of air filling his lungs. And then the steady beating of his heart in chest, one thump then another, a heavy pang settling inside him with every beat.

"Just tired," Jongin says. He tries to smile. If it ever looks fake, he can choke it up to lethargy. "I'm okay now," he adds. "I'll be alright."

Joonmyun stares at him a while longer, then nods. "Dinner, then?"

Jongin blinks a few times and looks at his wrist watch. _Right,_ it's not even eight yet. It's just a few minutes shy of the hour, but wasted time is still wasted time. And maybe the ache in his body is just from the hunger he keeps trying to suppress. So he says, "Sure," doesn't think twice about coming home late. They won't be leaving campus, anyway. And there's no one to talk to on Skype when he gets back to his room.

 

 

He connects to his wifi as soon as he gets back to the dorm – ten in the evening, because Joonmyun thought it was a good idea to walk around the grounds at nine in the evening after grabbing dinner. Maybe Joonmyun _is_ right, because the spring breeze wasn't beating down on them as hard as the usual and he feels five times lighter now, after walking a long path after eating so much. Joonmyun thought it was a good idea, too, to feed him with lots of chocolates because, _I swear, you really looked sick earlier._ So he made no effort to shrug it off or to turn Joonmyun down. Free food is still free food – it's the one thing in life Jongin will never say no to.

It couldn't have been _that_ bad earlier, he thinks now as he plops down on his bed. But then Zitao had offered him _his_ chocolate drink. Shaking his head, he pushes that thought to the very back of his mind.

It takes a while for Viber to load. Three messages come in in an instant, and a fourth one comes in a few seconds after. They're all from Sehun, and Jongin takes a deep breath at the first sign of sharp pain piercing his chest. It's normal now, but that doesn't mean the initial prick won't startle him out of his state of complete composure. It still does, years after, even if Sehun's first message reads, _ok gonna talk to the profs now WISH ME LUCK HUHUHU._ It's normal enough a message that he should be able to shrug off the feeling of _important, important, he's letting me know because he thinks I'm important._

Jongin shakes his head, gulps hard as he scrolls down to read the succeeding messages. _k turns out bitch got caught cheating in another class HAHAHA KARMA'S FUCKING WIFI NOW,_ says the second. The third is a sticker of a character doing a fist pump. The fourth is, _hey i got full marks 4 english wud u bliv??_

The strange thing is, even with all the shit that's been thrown at him, Jongin knows that Sehun isn't the type to let his emotions affect measurable output. His grandmother died and he still did well in his exams during second year in high school. His father passed away the year after and he was still able to get good marks on the final exam. Separation from Jongin still earned him good enough midterm marks in school _and_ let him score a girl. So if there's anyone who knows how to compartmentalize and does it well, it's Sehun.

It's a skill Jongin has yet to master. It's a skill that he has to master _now._

He tries hard, though – he navigates to his old email, his Yahoo address from years ago whose username is _drealkimkai2007_. He goes through the emails in the folder labeled as 'important', perusing through each message and clicking on the attached images. There's an album from their beach trip back in sixth grade, then a few pictures from middle school graduation. There's a handful from high school because that's when Sehun mastered the art of selca. There are a few more from many random occasions, just snapshots of Sehun in the classroom, or in the library with a sleepy Jongin. There's one with Sehun's lips smushed against Jongin's cheeks and Jongin scowling – in disgust or in pain, Jongin isn't sure. For all he knows, he might be complaining because Sehun narrowly missed his lips by a few inches.

He laughs at himself. His cursor hovers the trash bin icon for a moment, then he clicks it fast, deletes that and the high school pictures and the random selcas. He doesn't need those – Sehun probably has a back up of all his pictures, anyway.

Then he chances upon an email from years ago, one from his mother's email address. It has a picture of Sehun crying attached, and the caption reads– "Look at Sehunnie crying because he misses Jonginnie," Jongin reads out loud. Or something like it. If Sehun saw that image now, he'd probably laugh and deny it even happened.

If Jongin never saw the image again then maybe he'd be one step closer to taking that one step forward he should've taken a long time ago.

He takes a deep breath and clicks the trash bin icon, then. He sits on his hands as he waits for the other emails to load. Checks 'select all' and deletes everything else in the folder that's dated more than two years already.

He sets up email forwarding after a while, then logs off of _drealkimkai2007._

He switches to his Gmail application and logs on with _kim.jongin@gmail.com._

♬ ♬ ♬

The good thing about this particular Monday is that their sound professor emailed the night before that he won't be able to come to class.. It had something to do with shooting schedules and post-production timings and the like, but Jongin's eyes stopped reading as soon as he read _I'll be meeting with you next week. Treat our meeting tomorrow, Monday, as your break from the midterm challenge._ Then his Semiotics professor called and said he was sick, but everyone knows he's doing his freelance job while teaching so 'sick' means 'sick of the institution but well enough to earn money elsewhere'. The free day works to their advantage – after spending weeks laboring over a week-long challenge, they'd grab at any opportunity to take a break.

So when Joonmyun asks, "Would you want to board with me again? Just a test for my thesis. This is the last one, I promise!," Jongin gives in. It's not as if he can ever think of saying no, in the first place.

Two in the afternoon finds him stuffed to the brim and reaching out to take the script Joonmyun wrote for this particular exercise. "Don't read yet," Joonmyun says from the other side of the room, then turns to the camera to fumble with a few controls. A few seconds after, Joonmyun appears on the other side of the room with another camera. He sets it up beside Jongin, the lens intimidating with the very little distance between it and his face. Jongin leans back a little, creates some space between them. He waits for the 'beep' of the camera and for Joonmyun to settle on his seat.

"We're rolling," Joonmyun announces, then draws his copy of the script close to himself. "Okay. So, this is an exercise in determining emotions in different voices," he explains. "I'll be playing a series of clips with statements from different people, and I need you to react to two things: one, their voices; and two, the content of the statement. If you didn't catch the meat of the statement, that's fine. Also, I'll need you to be as candid as possible with your reactions. Is that clear, Mr. Kim?"

 _Mr. Kim._ It sounds too formal on Joonmyun's lips, unlike the way he says Jongin's name like he's humming, singing. Jongin shakes off that thought, pushes it to the back of his mind. Focuses on the way Joonmyun purses his lips, instead, and the way they quirk up when their eyes meet. That unties the loose knots in his stomach and in his shoulders. It stills his heart beat a little.

"Ready? Joonmyun asks.

Jongin takes a deep breath. "Ready whenever you are."

The exercise doesn't… sound anything like an exercise. For one, the messages in the clips are from many different scenarios, and Jongin has a hard time focusing on just one thing – either the intonation and the lilts or the content, the gist of the message. Only on the fifth clip does he decide to focus on just one – that being content – but even then the voice, the tone, the delivery of the line makes it hard to digest just the meat of the content and dissect each word. Some of the lines are delivered in such a passive manner that Jongin finds himself not listening to those at all, and some are delivered with so much gusto that the meaning, albeit simple, gets lost in the voice of the speaker. There are so many factors to consider – the breathing, the choking on words, even the way some words roll off of the speaker's tongue, he should consider all those before giving a reaction fitting for each clip.

"The banker is bluffing. Pretty sure he stole the money. He was stuttering," Jongin comments after Joonmyun pauses the tenth clip. Joonmyun nods as he scribbles key words, notes on Jongin's comments. He can't make out the characters Joonmyun is scribbling from where he is but he sees Joonmyun encircling a word, then underlining a phrase.

"But maybe someone was holding him at gunpoint? That could be an option. I mean, the heavy breathing... sort of blurred the situation a bit," Jongin says. He worries his bottom lip, tilting his head to the side, then looks up at Joonmyun. "Was he? For some reason, I can't help but think that he was telling the truth and that the situation just freaked the–" Joonmyun cocks an eyebrow at him and he reconsiders his words. " –hell out of him," Jongin finishes.

"So you're saying, if we isolate the content alone, just the words, no inflections or change in intonation, the meaning won't be the same," Joonmyun asks. "Is that it?"

Jongin nods in agreement. "Yeah. But that's taking the line out of context. I mean, it's hard to determine the truth behind someone's words just because–"

Jongin blinks twice. He gets it now, the point of this activity. People in media, in _broadcasting_ tend to weave something out of simple happenings or news bits through delivery. _Execution matters,_ he remembers Lee-sonsaengnim saying. _So as future filmmakers, you have to be extra careful with how you communicate your message through movies, scenes, even the smallest details._

"–just because they're written down," Jongin continues, voice dropping to a whisper. He stares at Joonmyun for a few good seconds, shaking his head in disbelief. Joonmyun's lips tug up at the corners, slow and careful, like he can't be seen smiling on camera even if he's just successfully communicated the concept behind the activity. "It's the branding, the equity that lends credibility to a news item. Take it out of Reuters and it's as good gossip."

Joonmyun takes a deep breath, sharp and noisy, then leans closer. Only the tips of his fingers touch Jongin, but already Jongin can feel electricity shoot up his arms, prick his skin, numb his shoulders. "But even then, you cannot take the news item out of context. Let's say KBS delivers news on something happening outside of Korea. There _can_ be an ounce of truth to it, but it will be more believable if the news comes from CNN, or BBC. Is that right?"

Jongin nods. He bites the inside of his cheek, finding it more difficult to keep himself from grinning during an activity for an undergraduate thesis. _You're helping him graduate, Jongin. You haven't discovered the cure to all the problems in the world yet._ "You are absolutely right."

Joonmyun stays like that for a while, doesn't speak, doesn't move, but Jongin can make out the slow-forming smile on his lips, crawling up his cheeks and crinkling the corners of his eyes. He catches the subtle movement of Joonmyun's lips, too – _three, two, one_ – before he breaks the spell, pulling away then standing from his seat to stop the recording. It isn't until he's returned from turning off the camera on the other side that Jongin says, breathless, "That was amazing, hyung. I mean, it's a simple activity but _shit_ , the realization just... crept up to me. Like a fucking creeper."

Joonmyun allows himself to laugh now, and he shakes his head as he says, "I'll pretend that made sense, but okay. Thank you."

 _But that was amazing. It is,_ Jongin wants to argue. Joonmyun's brushing it off like it's nothing, like he isn't both trying to contribute new knowledge to the industry _and_ trying to effect change in the system. Heck, Joonmyun's talking as if he hasn't worked day and night for this, hasn't thought long and hard just to come up with a simple executional idea that can effectively relay his message to whoever his panelists are. So Jongin says, "If I were the panel, I'd feel shivers running down my spine, hyung. And I'm not even saying that because you'll be buying me food after."

Joonmyun snorts. "What? I'm buying you food? When did I ever–"

"Come on–" Jongin scoots closer, resting his head on Joonmyun's shoulder and nuzzling the jut of the bone. He tilts his head up, then, cranes his neck so he can take a whiff of Joonmyun's scent. He smells of eucalyptus and coffee, as always. Like lazy mornings spent in bed and accidentally spilling coffee on yourself but just laughing it off. Leaning on Joonmyun feels like that. "Hyung, I _helped_ you test your theory–"

Joonmyun huffs. " _Jongin._ "

"And it worked, right? I was a good subject and I caught on quickly and–"

Joonmyun shifts in his seat, tilting his head so that he's facing Jongin. Joonmyun is close, so close, close enough that he can see the pimple just under Joonmyun's eye, and then two more near it like they're forming a triangle. Close enough that he see that Joonmyun's lips are chapped and, _I can help with that, hyung,_ Jongin wants to say. _I can help you with that._ But he doesn't really have to. Joonmyun's licking his lips and he 's leaning closer and Jongin takes a deep breath, air passing through the small opening of his lips. It makes him feel cold, makes him shiver a little. He tightens his fist in Joonmyun's shirt and Joonmyun's closer now because Jongin can feel the slow-forming smile tugging up the corners of his mouth, and he can feel the tremble of Joonmyun's lips on his skin.

"It did. It worked," Joonmyun says, _breathes._ His voice is barely above a whisper and he could have been breathing, but he isn't. His words stick to Jongin's skin; that alone is a testament that Jongin isn't hearing things, _imagining_ things. This is real. "What do you want?"

 _I want you,_ he could say, but he doesn't. Instead, he answers, "Anything sweet." Joonmyun laughs a little. "Iced chocolate drink."

Joonmyun closes his eyes and presses close, lips brushing against Jongin's own, then pulls away. Jongin leans in close, chasing his breath, but too late – Joonmyun's pushing himself off his seat and gathering his things.

The trip to the cafeteria is silent. Jongin doesn't mind – this brand of silence isn't the type that makes him blank out or lulls him to sleep. Joonmyun seems to, though, worrying his bottom lip too much or turning to his side, looking at Jongin, then looking back at his shoes when Jongin looks his way. If he ever wants to say anything, he doesn't; instead, he moves closer to Jongin, lets their knuckles brush. Keeps his head facing the road ahead of them and doesn't risk a glance at Jongin.

"Here's your _iced chocolate drink,_ as requested," Joonmyun says when he arrives with their order. He accidentally jams his foot into one of the legs of the table and winces, but by then the tray is already safe on the table. "Almost forgot the whipped cream but I remembered it just before I left the counter."

"Thank you," Jongin replies, then transfers the food to their table one by one. It's still the same order for Joonmyun, down to his two cups of tea and mulmandu that Jongin knows Joonmyun will stuff with kimchi. Meanwhile, it's a tteokbokki and ramyun kind of night for Jongin. It means he won't be sleeping anytime soon, or that he might have to invite Joonmyun to take a walk around the campus. By the end of the trip, he'd probably feel less full and tired enough too just crash into his bed. Or maybe he'd still feel the same and ask Joonmyun for another round if only to stay with Joonmyun a little longer.

"I thought you were hungry," Joonmyun comments, peeking at him through his bangs.

Jongin widens his eyes at Joonmyun, then stuffs as many pieces of tteok in his mouth as he could. This only results in him in wincing in pain later, when chewing all the tteok in his mouth proves to be a chore and the gochujang starts to spill from the corners of his mouth. It's a stupid move, but the ache in his jaw eases when Joonmyun leans in, reaching out to wipe the sauce at the corners of Jongin's mouth. Joonmyun's fingers are cold, but his touch has never been anything but gentle and light. Like he isn't sure of what he wants, wants to do, and what he wants to achieve.

Joonmyun sucks in his thumb, licking off the sauce, and laughs a little. "I didn't think you were that hungry."

"Didn't realize I was, either," Jongin says between munching. It's bad manners, but the words just stumbled out of his mouth, surprising even himself. Joonmyun shocked the sentence out of him, sort of. Joonmyun has a lot of abilities; stilling Jongin's racing heartbeat isn't one of them.

When Jongin feels the tension in his jaws leave, he looks up at Joonmyun and asks, "Do you do this with everyone, hyung?"

Joonmyun cocks his eyebrows in response. Lips pursed and eyes blinking, he looks surprised, caught off-guard. The light flush coating his neck and his cheeks say something else, though, and the shy twist of the mouth says, _Well, you've been figured out now, Joonmyun. What will you do? What do you want to do now, huh?_ Another blink, and then it's gone, masked by his normal look – controlled smile, crinkles at the corners of his eyes. His chest is still heaving, though. His lips are still trembling.

"Not everyone," Joonmyun answers. He picks at his food and focuses his eyes on the meat he's separating from the rice. "Only my favorites."

 _My favorites_ sound so generic, though – he hasn't seen Joonmyun buying Kyungsoo food or asking favors from Soojung. He's seen Joonmyun with Chanyeol a few times, Chanyeol eating and Joonmyun only half-interested in his food, the other half of his attention on Baekhyun. That's how it's always been, somehow – Joonmyun half in this conversation, half of his mind somewhere else. Joonmyun half comfortable where he is and the other half of him feeling out of place, sometimes even bereft. Half of Joonmyun's body fitting in Baekhyun's, and the other half of him in a weird sort of puzzle-fit with Jongin's own. It's hard trying to win something, _someone_ over when you know that you'll have to share the prize with someone else.

Jongin is crazy possessive. He hates it when Baekhyun gets frisky with Joonmyun not because it's rude to do so, but because when it's Joonmyun's turn to touch him, Baekhyun pushes him away.

"So Baekhyun-hyung… Is he one of your favorites?"

Joonmyun laughs, thick and bitter. He snorts as he ends. "Baekhyun and I are just friends. I thought that was clear already."

Jongin bites the inside of his cheek. "You don't seem convinced, hyung," he answers. He nibbles on the straw of his drink but tteokbokki and chocolate have never been a good combination. He pulls away, then, and keeps his eyes focused on Joonmyun, instead. "And… I dunno, hyung, but it always felt as if you two were more than that."

Joonmyun swallows hard, Adam's apple bobbing slowly in his throat. "Not to everyone, and certainly not to him," he answers, then, and takes a deep breath. He sort of slumps in his seat, but he pulls his shoulders back and sits up straight after a while. "Just… think of it this way: friends have needs. We help each other fulfill those needs from time to time. So we really _are_ just friends," Joonmyun explains. His lips twist into a weird sort of smile-scowl-frown. "Very good friends."

"He owes you an explanation, at least."

Joonmyun scoffs. "He doesn't owe me anything. We had an agreement that there will never be any feelings involved–"

"Looks like he's the only one keeping his word, hyung," Jongin replies. Joonmyun's eyebrows twitch and Jongin thinks, _shit,_ he shouldn't have said that. He's being too harsh and rude. Not everyone appreciates brute honesty. It works with Sehun, yes, but Joonmyun is no Sehun. And while Joonmyun is strong, his resolve when it comes to anything that involves Baekhyun is weak.

"I'm sorry," Jongin mumbles. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have–"

"No, you're right," Joonmyun says. He shakes his head, the smile he was wearing before still on his lips. It's softer on the edges now; Joonmyun's eyes, sullen and half-mast. It feels like a dismissal, or Joonmyun halfway out the door and out of this conversation. There's something else dangling from the corners of Joonmyun's lips, though, a sliver of hope, the string keeping Jongin from walking away. "I suck at keeping promises."

"Well you… You haven't opened your Alpha Sapphire yet, right?" Jongin says in an effort to make the atmosphere lighter. Under the table, he nudges Joonmyun's foot.

Joonmyun laughs a little. It sounds less scratchy than before. It lifts the tension in Jongin's shoulders a bit. "Not yet," Joonmyun answers. "I guess I'm not so bad at that."

"And remember, hyung, _after your defense–_ "

Joonmyun chuckles this time, his cheeks tugging up along with the corners of his eyes. This is a better look on him. "I know, I know, we're going to make a collab once the chaos tides over."

Jongin nods and grabs his drink, taking a long sip of the iced chocolate. "Good," he says, smiling. A sliver of laughter escapes Joonmyun's lips. "I'm looking forward to that."

It takes them another hour to finish eating, and ten more minutes to decide to take a walk around the campus, get some fresh air and help the food they've just eaten go down. The walk is silent until Joonmyun begins to hum, filling the silence again, and Jongin's tempted to ask, _why do you hate silence so much, hyung?_ But Joonmyun has already answered more questions than he does on a normal day, and everybody is entitled to their own secrets – Joonmyun has an island filled with them, and Jongin has his heart filled with tiny pieces of his Sehun puzzle still littered in his heart.

He dusts himself off and finds himself humming along when he recognizes the song. Joonmyun looks at him, bumps his elbow into Jongin's arm but misses by a width of a hair. Jongin feels his pulse in his palms, the back of his knees quicken. Joonmyun hadn't even touched him.

♬ ♬ ♬

He takes a pit stop at Zitao's room before heading to his own. "I'm here for Pokemon," he announces, but both he and Zitao know that isn't true. He's here because there's the possibility of a Skype call to come in at eleven in the evening. He's here because sometimes the silence drives Jongin crazy, too. He's here for the Combos – that part, he doesn't. deny.

"I can hear these teeny, tiny voices in your head. They're driving me crazy," Zitao comments. He bumps his knee into Jongin's own from where they're sitting cross-legged on his bed. "C'mon, speak up. I'm entering the League in five minutes so make it quick."

"I'm confused," Jongin confesses because that's all there is to say. He doesn't even know how he feels about this… whole arrangement. He's around 70% sure that Joonmyun likes him; if Joonmyun doesn't, then at least he likes Jongin's lips. There's something holding Joonmyun back, though, something that makes him return to Baekhyun despite all of Baekhyun's counts against Joonmyun's sanity. Strike one: Baekhyun is a fucking exhibitionist flirt who can't keep his hands to himself when Joonmyun's around. At the first sign of action from Joonmyun, though, he takes a step back. Strike two: He doesn't know when to stop because Jongin is sure, even if he might have been a bit too buzzed that time, that Joonmyun kept trying to tell Baekhyun off when they were drinking in celebration of the successful broadcasting week. Strike three: They both don't know what this is. Three-point-one is that they made a shitty agreement to just keep things physical. It works for some people, sure, but only up to a certain point. There will always be one point in time where one will feel something for the other, and it's bound to be messy.

 _Your life sounds like a teenage drama,_ he tells himself. Also, _stop living in your manhwa world, Jongin._ Maybe life is just too shitty at times. So he turns to Zitao, opens the bag of Combos without preamble. He isn't even surprised that Zitao isn't holding him back. "I'm really, really confused."

"More like you feel confused for your darling Joonmyun-hyung," Zitao mumbles. He holds up a finger when Jongin begins to protest. "I'm not buying any of your bullshit. I know you're feeling all weird and messed up because you want to help him out as much as you want to help yourself."

Jongin stops mid-Combo and cocks an eyebrow at Zitao. "Wow. That's deep."

Zitao nods, slow and solemn, then gives Jongin a pat on the shoulder. "And you, my dear friend, are in deep trouble."

Not really, Jongin wants to argue. Being in trouble means he hadn't intended for this to happen, but somewhere in his mind, in the midst of the rubble, he's sure he was bound to feel _a bit more attracted_ to Joonmyun – aka Youtube user '$udope' but display name '$uho' – after meeting him in real life. Sharing experiences has that kind of effect on people. Heck, if he was into girls then he'd probably be so damn attracted to Soojung. If he hadn't spent half of his heart points on clinging onto the idea of Sehun and invested the other half in Joonmyun, maybe he'd fall for Zitao. Zitao isn't difficult to grow fond of – he's nice, caring, charming. He has great taste in food and in games, and somehow always has great advice to give. His fashion sense is weird but hey, Jongin had to deal with $uho's atrocious fashion choices for years. Zitao's is easy to deal with.

But he made sure, he really made sure, not to feel anything for Zitao. Saw _and_ felt it coming on their very first meeting. Shit people say about love at first sight? That's true sometimes, 100% of the time for Jongin. The moment Sehun dove into the sandpit back when they were kids, Jongin thought of two things – one, his ass is cute; and two, shit, he has the nicest smile even when he just got humiliated in front of a lot of kids. Then his heart skipped a beat and he knew, he just knew, that he was bound to fall for this kid.

The sequence of events in The Joonmyun Case eludes Jongin, but he's certain that somewhere between Joonmyun looking all cool _and_ a bit flustered after someone walking up to him to confess, _I'm your biggest fan,_ and Joonmyun _not_ pushing him away, he knew he was going to fall. Was around 95% sure. The other 5% of him was still holding onto that sliver of hope with Sehun. Dwindled to 0 when Sehun decided, all by himself, to put a wall between them.

"I want to make this work, though," he mumbles, crumbs from his snack catching on the corners of his lips. Zitao gestures for him to clean up his mess, and he wipes the his mouth with the back of his hand. Zitao grimaces, but he also helps Jongin, brushing away the crumbs on the other side with his thumb. When he pulls away, he wipes his thumb with a sheet of tissue and throws it into the waste basket.

Then he snatches the bag of Combos from Jongin and asks, "What are you gonna do now?"

"Wait? I guess?" Jongin says. Asks himself, even, because he's not sure if he wants to spend another lifetime waiting for a love that might not be his in the end.

Zitao doesn't say anything, simply munches on the snack, then hands Jongin his DS. "You need this more than I do," he says. "Just… don't kill my Pokemon. Don't let them die."

_Don't let them die._

"Nah. You play, I'll watch," Jongin says, and props his chin on Zitao's shoulder, chewing noisily. Zitao boots up his DS and groans when Jongin deliberately chews louder right in his ear, but he doesn't brush Jongin off. He does, however, ask Jongin to feed him while he tackles the Elite Four. He doesn't ask for anything else.

And that, Jongin thinks as he accidentally shoves a Combo into Zitao's mouth when Zitao lands a critical hit on his opponent, makes all the difference.

♬ ♬ ♬

Wednesday that week, after their last class, Soojung and Jongin bump into Joonmyun on their way to the library. He's with a few friends who he introduces as _geniuses from the College of Music._ The one with blond hair is Lu Han, and the one who's carrying a guitar case is Zhang Yixing. Jongin remembers seeing Yixing from one of the broadcasting week recordings that he watched. "They record with Chanyeol in my room most of the time, that meaning 'everyday'," he explains. He whispers something about Chanyeol being in the room, then, and that they won't need his keys, and with that the two start walking to a different direction.

"You make your room sound like a huge studio, hyung," Jongin comments as they get back on track, crossing the bridge from the Broadcasting building to the Film building. Joonmyun doesn't say anything and only chuckles. His stomach grumbles, then, and Jongin doesn't have to ask if Joonmyun's coming with them to the library.

"I'm thinking of skipping lunch so I could do the last few tweaks for my paper," Joonmyun says, voice trailing off. They're nearing the junction where Joonmyun can take a left if he has to solve the problems of his stomach first, then conquer his paper second. "Because I have a consultation with Kim-sonsaengnim tomorrow at 9–"

Jongin massages the bridge of his nose, tired from carrying the weight of his glasses the entire cinematography class, and shakes his head. "Nope. Eat first, study later."

Soojung grunts in agreement, but Jongin can't be too sure. She isn't looking in Joonmyun's direction. She's facing the other way, to their right, where the exit to the university bookstore is. "Or maybe you should go back to the club room first, oppa?" she continues, then turns to look at Joonmyun. "Yeah. You should– No, actually, come on, let's eat."

"What–" Jongin furrows his eyebrows at Soojung and widens his eyes when Soojung hooks an arm around his own. Soojung _never_ does that. Something's up. He looks around him, then, looks over his shoulder, and–

"Oh," comes Joonmyun's breathless statement. Jongin freezes. He's pretty sure Joonmyun can't see much with the two of them towering over Joonmyun, but the red hair beyond their shoulders is unmistakeable. It looks pretty innocent at first glance – Baekhyun with books tucked in one arm and the other holding himself up against the wall, the girl in front of him meeting his gaze, smiling at him. Jongin looks closer and then he sees it, Baekhyun with his knee rubbing against the girl's inner thigh and the girl's hand snaking around Baekhyun's waist, then traveling south to cup his ass.

It's stupid to be making out in broad daylight, but at least Baekhyun made an effort to hide behind the short plants. Props to him for even managing to think in this situation. And props to him for noticing that there are three pairs of eyes looking at him, at _them,_ from a few feet away.

Jongin gulps hard and reaches for Joonmyun's hand. Joonmyun doesn't brush him off, but he doesn't look at him either. The expression on his face is unreadable – his lips are pressed thinly together, and his eyes are sharp, dark, piercing. It takes a while for the girl to catch on, and she simply balls her hands into fists in Baekhyun's shirt. Jongin catches Baekhyun's, _Excuse me, I just have to… deal with something._ He feels Joonmyun's fingers slipping between his own, feels Joonmyun's hold on him, tight and unrelenting.

"Hyung," Baekhyun begins. He worries his bottom lip, then, "Hyung, I–"

"It's okay. We had agreement," Joonmyun replies, voice steady, but Jongin can feel Joonmyun's fingers trembling. He hears the light hitch in Joonmyun's breathing, and then there's something else – resolution in Joonmyun's hard-edged words when he says, "It was silly even signing it, in the first place." Joonmyun gulps hard. "It's over."

"Wha–" Baekhyun bites down on his lower lip even before he can finish, and then it's all silence from that point on. Joonmyun is as steady as the ground, but Jongin can hear the tiny hitches in his breathing, like he's trying to keep everything inside, trying to keep himself in check even at the height of the situation. Jongin tightens his hold on Joonmyun, then, and Joonmyun lets out a loud exhale, closes his eyes, blows tiny puffs of air, perhaps in an effort to even out his breathing.

"You have a class in… a few minutes, right?" comes Joonmyun's voice, brighter this time. Jongin looks to his side, furrows his eyebrows when he realizes that there's a small smile at the curl of Joonmyun's lips. "Go. You can't miss that. Remember, if you ever get bad grades–"

"I'll get kicked out," Baekhyun continues. He gulps hard. His lips are trembling. He manages to wear a smile, though. Maybe this is part of the agreement, the contract that they both signed, that if they ever screwed up, they'd brush it off and start anew as soon as they can. "And that I'll have to look for a new org to join.

Joonmyun laughs a little, dry and choked. "Good that you know."

 _Oh, come on,_ Jongin thinks. _It can't be that easy._

It isn't, because as soon as Baekhyun turns on his heel to walk back inside the building, Joonmyun slumps against the closest wall. "Food. On me," is the only thing he says, and that's what it takes for Jongin to feel a surge of courage and to keep their fingers linked even as they make their way to the cafeteria. Joonmyun doesn't budge, doesn't even flinch when Jongin starts rubbing circles on his skin with his thumb. Soojung offers to be the one to buy for them, but Joonmyun shakes his head, saying, "I have to be busy. I can't think about– Let me do it."

Jongin meets his gaze head on and asks, "Do you… want soju to go with that? I could sneak some in, I guess." He's done it before, except he'd snuck in soju in Sehun's house without asking Sehun's parents for permission. He ended up sleeping over at Sehun's place instead of going home that night, curled up against the warm press of Sehun's body.

Maybe he's no expert at hiding because the following day, Sehun's parents found the bottle. Sehun's mother only said, "Well, at least they drank here at home and not outside." His father took a deep breath and shook his head, but agreed with Sehun's mother soon after. At the back of Jongin's mind that time, he thought, it was a good thing that was the only thing they noticed. The fit of his body in Sehun's own wasn't new, after all; it was the sinking feeling in his stomach at the memory of Sehun's lips on his cheek that was.

"Can you? Tonight?" Joonmyun asks. He worries his bottom lip, like he's reconsidering, then says, "Do you want to–"

"I'm yours today, hyung," Jongin blurts out. He can make out Soojung cocking an eyebrow at him from a corner of his eye, but he doesn't pay attention to that. He focuses on the light scars on Joonmyun's lips. "I mean, I don't have class tomorrow so if you need someone to–" Distract you. "–keep you company, I'm your guy."

Joonmyun finally stops biting his lips and nods. "Okay. Tonight, then," he says. A flicker in his features, then he looks like his usual self again, albeit without the bright smile. He looks calm, at least. Composed. "Bibimbap for you? Or is it a ramyun kind of day?"

"Bibimbap," Jongin answers. Ramyun and tteokbokki are for nights when he feels like teasing the animal out of Joonmyun, when he feels like torturing himself with the movement of Joonmyun's lips on anything but his own mouth. "And extra kimchi."

Joonmyun laughs a little. It softens the corners of his mouth, teases a light chuckle out of him. "I'll get mulmandu, then," he says, like Jongin had imposed that on him. He didn't. But Joonmyun _does_ know that Jongin has come to develop a fondness for kimchi-stuffed mulmandu.

"Two servings!" Jongin calls out after Joonmyun. Joonmyun doesn't look over his shoulder, but he does hold two thumbs up. His shoulders fall forward and Jongin thinks, _It's okay to be a bit vulnerable, hyung. It's okay to be sad. Let me make you happy._

_Let me distract you._

♬ ♬ ♬

Evening comes in a rush. Jongin hadn't even realized that the sun had set already, but maybe that's because he'd been holed up in his room with a bag of Combos from Zitao's cabinet and Joonmyun typing hastily beside him. _I can't go back to my room,_ he remembers Joonmyun saying, so he offered his own as a hiding fort for the time being. He'd texted Soojung, then, to tell Chanyeol that Joonmyun was in his room and in one piece. He got a message from an unknown number soon after, saying, _thanks for taking care of joonmyun-hyung :* lemme know when i have to pick him up :D_

 _idk hyung maybe tomorrow? asked him earlier if he wants me to take him to your room but–_ He stops typing from between the pages of his book when Joonmyun looks up and cocks an eyebrow at him. There's nothing but silence for a while and it's unnerving, so he asks Joonmyun, "Room too cold for you, hyung?"

"A little," Joonmyun replies, then cranes his neck. Jongin doesn't budge, doesn't even cover the screen of his phone. If he does then he'd look more suspicious. He's not the best liar in the block, but he'd like to think he's good enough at feigning nonchalance. "It's okay, I have a cardigan here somewhere."

"Or we could go out and grab dinner," Jongin offers. It's eight in the evening, anyway, and they've gotten a lot of things done already. He heard Joonmyun crossing off things in his to-do list earlier under his breath. He's crossed off three chapters out of five that he has to report about next week. It's been a productive session and they deserve to be rewarded. "It's getting late. Aren't you hungry yet?"

Joonmyun chuckles. "A little," he says again, then rushes, "I'm still kinda full from the Combos. Where do you even buy packs as big as those?"

"I kinda… stole this," Jongin confesses. "From Zitao."

"Maybe we should drop by his room," Joonmyun begins, then pulls the screen of his laptop down. "And grab as many bags of Combos as we can–"

Jongin snickers. It might just be the cure to Joonmyun's sadness. "Sounds like a plan."

They get sidetracked, though, by the call of hunger, so 8:30 p.m. finds them in a barbecue place nearby. It's farther from the university than the one they ate at for the celebration, but the place seems much more peaceful, cozier. Maybe it's because it's the middle of the week and university students don't usually have the leisure of going out for barbecue and drinks on a weekday. Or maybe it's because university students use studies to distract themselves from heartaches.

"Any special requests?" Joonmyun asks when they're handed the menu. Jongin shakes his head, saying he's okay with anything as long as it's food. Joonmyun reads his mind easily, though, and orders rabokki for the two of them. It has some of the best things in life – tteokbokki, ramyun, and the opportunity to feed Joonmyun again. It's such an easy bait.

Two orders of samgyupsal and a bottle of soju after, Joonmyun finally loosens up. They'd been talking about academics earlier, with Jongin dropping the occasional comment on how cool Joonmyun's thesis in between flipping the meat and grilling some kimchi. At one point, they may have talked about how Jongin _really_ discovered Joonmyun's videos and maybe he did drop a hint that he was looking for lesbian porn then. Joonmyun hadn't laughed at him, though, and only shook his head as he smiled.

Now, Joonmyun is staring at the meat on the grill and asking, "What did I do wrong?"

A lot of things – he let himself sign that agreement with Baekhyun when he knew he was setting himself up for a heartache. And he kept trying to convince himself that he won't fall, there's no reason to. Kept lying to himself because he knew it was a mistake he couldn't rectify _and_ didn't want to rectify. Fixing things meant letting go of Baekhyun. Together, they were a wonderful mess; apart, Joonmyun was a catastrophe and Baekhyun was a disaster waiting to happen.

"You were just scared, hyung," Jongin mumbles. He reaches out, not minding the sting of the heat from the grill pricking his skin. "You were scared and sometimes we do stupid things when we're afraid."

Joonmyun laughs a little. "It's funny how you're the only one I can trust to be completely honest with me," Joonmyun says. He uncaps a fresh bottle of soju and drinks from the mouth. Jongin doesn't try to stop him. "When we've only know each other for, what, a few months? I mean, I'm not taking it against them that they… tried to ride the same joke and didn't want to slap the reality hard on my face, but–"

"But we need that, sometimes," Jongin says with an exhale. "We need someone to call us out on our bullshit."

"Snap us back to reality, right? Bring us back to safer ground." Joonmyun takes a long swig of soju and seethes when he puts the bottle down. Jongin winces a little. Taking shots of alcohol already makes him feel queasy; he doesn't want to know how Joonmyun feels right now, if he feels like his lips are burning and aflame. "So thank you. I appreciate it. I might not say this often but really, I… appreciate the whole being honest thing."

Joonmyun worries his bottom lip and winces at the first nip. Oversensitive, he exchanges soju for cold water. He looks up at Jongin, then, once the wild red of his lips has been tamed. "I appreciate you."

Jongin waits for it – the uncontrollable happiness inside him, that spark of _something_ that will have him bouncing on the balls of his feet for days on end – but it doesn't come. He waits a little longer, studying the way Joonmyun's expression falls from a vacant look to downcast eyes and the corners of his lips pulled down. He waits until he feels a dull ache in his chest that blooms into something heavier, thumping against his rib cage. And it's suffocating. He can feel his throat constricting and it's dryer than before and it hurts to take deep and long breaths.

Joonmyun reaches out, fingers dancing across the table until he reaches the tips of Jongin's fingers. Jongin moves his hand closer and meets Joonmyun halfway. Here they are again, at this point, where they're each a touch, a decision away. Jongin's eyes focus on the link of their hands, then travels all the way up, tracing Joonmyun's collarbones through the wide collar of his shirt, the column on his neck, the jut of bottom lip. His frown looks more like a pout and it should be cute, but Jongin can't find it in his heart to reach out and pinch Joonmyun's cheeks. He can't even find the words to say, or for this – the standstill where they push and pull in equal parts. Joonmyun meets his gaze just before Jongin lifts his eyes to trace the bridge of Joonmyun's nose, and Jongin says, without preamble, "Hyung, choose me."

Joonmyun furrows his eyebrows. "Huh?"

Jongin gulps down hard, suddenly regretting his decision, but whatever – what's done is done. There's no backing out now. "I know somewhere in your heart, there's still a bit of… I dunno, love? For Baekhyun-hyung? Even if you saw him making out with a girl and he acted like a douchebag trying to explain to you? I know that you're still willing to give this another shot because–" He laughs. He's been through the same bullshit before to know that _I'm okay, I'll be okay_ translates to _I'm not fucking okay_. "–because you're scared to forget how it feels to have him around. You're scared to… feel less alive and more like some zombie walking down the corridors or something."

Joonmyun laughs a little, but soon the light upward tug at his cheeks falls to a frown. Jongin doesn't speak until Joonmyun looks at him again, a small upward curve at the corners of his mouth. "I know how it feels, hyung. I know how hard it is to… forget the good stuff about that bad experience. It sucks. Sometimes you need an effective distraction to get your back on track."

"A distraction, huh?" Joonmyun whispers. He bites his lower lip. "Like what?"

"Like a new hobby, or something new to learn!" Jongin exclaims. Joonmyun's eyes turn into tiny half-moon crescents. He opens them wide again – as wide as he can, and fixes Jongin with a stare. "A new group to be with. _Someone_ new."

It's not easy, though, Jongin knows that. It's not easy to just replace someone who has carved a niche in your life. It's not easy to wake up everyday, knowing that things just won't be the same way again _no matter_ how many times you convince yourself that nothing's going to change. That nothing _should_ change. But that's the point of confrontations, isn't it? You want something to change for the better. It just doesn't always go your way.

Jongin takes a deep breath. It may not go his way again, as it always does, but he's willing to give it a shot. For Joonmyun, he's willing to take the leap.

Jongin moves closer, then, and he feels the light tremble of Joonmyun's fingers against the tips of his own. It sends a jolt up his arm, numbs his elbow and shoulder. It sends shivers down his spine. He stays still for a few seconds, trying to still his heartbeat, but to no avail. Every inch of him is hyperaware. He can feel his pulse grow stronger in his palms, at the back of his knees, on the underside of his jaw as he tries to find the right words to say. His throat clenches around them, and he lets them all out in a clumsy enunciation.

"So choose me, hyung. Let me distract you. Let me…" He bites the inside of his cheek. "Let me help. I know it isn't much and that sometimes I might be a bother but hyung, _please–_ " He swallows hard. Joonmyun's eyes are wide, and Jongin sees his teeth chatter through the slight parting of his lips. "You don't have to go through this alone."

Jongin closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. "Please," he whispers. "Give me a chance."

Joonmyun inhales, deep and sharp, then presses his lips thinly together. Whatever inebriation written on his features earlier is gone now, replaced instead by shock. There's still a faint dusting of pink on his cheeks, but even his eyes are void of the sullen look they'd carried earlier. His lips are a bright shade of red, and they're trembling, and Joonmyun is shaking. His chest is heaving and he isn't saying but he's _shaking,_ and that says more than Jongin would like to hear.

Jongin tries to laugh, then, but for the most part what comes out is dry laughter. "If not, then… At least let us help you. You have… friends you can lean on in times like this."

Joonmyun shakes his head. He catches his lower lip and shakes his head, again and again until the motion comes to a gradual halt. "No. I mean. It's okay, but–" He balls his free hand into a fist. "Jongin, you don't have to do this."

"I'm not a kid, hyung," Jongin argues. "You can't tell me what and what not to do anymore–"

"I don't want to hurt you," Joonmyun says, pausing between words like he's trying to drive a point that he just can't get across. "Help me with academics, sure, that's great, but Jongin–" Joonmyun shakes his head lightly. "I know how you feel about me, and I don't want to abuse that knowledge. You don't deserve that. I won't just… jump you because you're _there_ and it's convenient. You're my _friend_ , Jongin, and I'm not in the business of hurting friends."

Jongin tears his gaze from Joonmyun's own. "Don't push me away."

"I won't," Joonmyun says, looking at their hands, still not touching. He reaches out, then, and lays his palm flat on Jongin's own. "But I won't pull you closer, either. Not– Not now. Not when everything's still messy."

Jongin risks a glance at Joonmyun and sucks in his bottom lip. Joonmyun's eyebrows are furrowed and _damn,_ Joonmyun shouldn't be feeling bad about this. Jongin's the one being rejected, not him. He shouldn't look as if he's affected and reluctant to let go. He shouldn't.

"When?" Jongin asks.

"I don't know, Jongin." Joonmyun gives Jongin's hand a light squeeze. "I don't know."

Jongin can feel something bubbling in his throat, a traitorous cold wrapping around his neck and choking down his words. He wants to say something. He _needs_ to, because he's stubborn and he's old enough to decide for himself and _maybe_ he's still a bit of a kid. "I'm not going anywhere," he finally says. "I'm not going anywhere so I might as well stick around. Here." Jongin splays his fingers on the table and hooks his thumb on Joonmyun's hand. "With you."

Joonmyun laughs. Jongin looks up, eyebrows knitted in confusion, and for the first time since they saw Baekhyun on campus today, he sees Joonmyun smiling. "Silly kid," Joonmyun says, then gives his bottom lip a light nip. Jongin wants to tell him, to remind him that _hyung, I'm not a kid_ , but Joonmyun flushes that thought out of his system when he gives Jongin's hand a tight squeeze, then brings it close to his lips, pressing a light kiss to the back of Jongin's hand.

"What do I do with you?" Joonmyun whispers. He rests his forehead on Jongin's hand. "What do I do with you…"

"Keep me," Jongin mumbles, and Joonmyun snorts, like that's what it takes for him to feel better again – a stubborn kid trying to fight his way inside his heart. And Jongin knows he stands a chance, albeit a tiny 1%, so presses on, hacks away at the vines and tall grass crowding in on him. He'll keep at it until he finds a clearing and finds Joonmyun, curled up in a corner, waiting to be saved.

Joonmyun brings their intertwined hands down on the table, laughing with full-bodied shakes. He keeps his eyes on Jongin and doesn't let go.

♬ ♬ ♬

It isn't exactly the excessive inebriation that makes them decide to go back to the dorms. They're not drunk – just buzzed, enough to make their limbs and lips a bit too loose. Jongin pops two pieces of chewing gum between Joonmyun's lips, pressing them against Joonmyun's lips first before Joonmyun lets his lips fall open. He sucks on Jongin's thumb a little, but pulls away when he realizes that they're out in the streets, the yellow light from the lamppost casting them a warm glow. Under this light, Joonmyun looks like a goner, drunk to the bone, cheeks flush and eyelids heavy. His lips look too red. They feel warm against Jongin's skin.

Jongin takes a deep breath, then chews on the gum in his mouth. It's harder with alcohol making his movements uncoordinated. Even muscle memory betrays him now when they cross the street. Joonmyun steadies him, fits himself in Jongin's side and under his arm. Joonmyun hand is cold on his waist, a complete contrast to how warm the rest of Joonmyun's body is. Jongin tries not to shiver. He only mumbles a soft sound of gratitude under his breath.

"Wait– The finishing touch–" Joonmyun whips out an atomizer with rubbing alcohol inside, sprays a liberal amount on their clothes.

"Really, hyung? Alcohol? You're using rubbing alcohol as perfume?" Jongin says, snorting.

"Better than smelling like soju," Joonmyun answers with a grin.

Climbing the stairs to Jongin's room is a chore. Joonmyun isn't giggling anymore, at least, but he still has difficulty staying awake while sleeping. Must be fatigue at work – he _was_ doing his thesis before all this, after all. Jongin fumbles with his pockets, looking for his key, and lets out a loud exhale when he feels the cool metal in his hand. Joonmyun is leaning against the door, head thrown back, and even without the proper lighting Jongin can see the faint glimmer of Joonmyun's skin, sticky with sweat.

Joonmyun looks up at him. "For a moment, I thought you were going to let me down."

Jongin leans closer until he feels Joonmyun's hot breath on his skin. He catches the hitch in Joonmyun's breathing – he isn't drunk. Just tiptoeing the line between sleep and wake. "Never."

Jongin closes the door behind him and almost bumps into Joonmyun when he takes a few steps forward. He can feel the shift of Joonmyun's muscles, the way his shoulders tense, the light jerk of his body. He wasn't like this earlier, when he was typing on Jongin's bed and Jongin was trying to study on his desk. He wasn't like this over dinner, either, or when they walked around the block three bottles of soju and sad stories after. Joonmyun was more relaxed, then, a bit more carefree, but the silence of the room gets to him and makes him choke on all of his words.

There's a distant memory of one of Joonmyun's memories in his mind, something Joonmyun told them when they had to stop before turning a corner because Jongin was feeling so damn dizzy that he felt like throwing up. The details are blurred, but it sounds something like _There was a time when Baekhyun and I had a few drinks and he had to help me get back to my dorm. But then Chanyeol was already asleep and I had no idea where I put my keys so I had to sleep in his room. And the bed was small. And he said, 'we won't get any sleeping done this way', but he got into bed with me, anyway, and–_

"Maybe you should freshen up, hyung," Jongin says. He means, _maybe we should take time to breathe._

"Too sleepy," Joonmyun replies. He leans against Jongin's chest for a moment, then pushes himself back up. Just a split-second of indecision and surrender. Joonmyun's more awake than he should be. "I can sleep on the chair. You should… You should get some rest, Jongin."

Jongin rests his hands on Joonmyun's shoulders and guides him to the bed, then motions for him to take a seat. "It's… big enough for two," he says. "We can share."

"Are you sure?"

Jongin laughs a little. "Are _you_ okay with it?"

Joonmyun looks up, down at his clasped hands on his lap, then looks over his shoulder to assess the bed. "I can't assure you that–"

Jongin takes a deep breath. _I can't promise not to hold you close, hyung. That's too much to ask._

"–that I won't be thrashing about. I mean–" Joonmyun worries his bottom lip then winces, but presses on like if he doesn't do _anything_ he'll combust. Jongin moves closer, then, tracing the curve of Joonmyun's face, and holds him by the chin. Jongin makes small circles with his thumb on Joonmyun's chin and Joonmyun finally stops nipping on his lip. "I move around in my sleep."

"I sleep like a log," Jongin assures him.

Joonmyun smiles a little. "Okay, then," he says, then shifts in where he's seated on the bed. He moves farther to the side, making room for Jongin. "Go, freshen up. I'll… wait for you."

Jongin excuses himself to remove his contact lenses, and when he returns to finally get settled, he finds Joonmyun curled up on one side of the bed, close to the edge. His hair is brushed away from his face, save for a few strands that get caught between his lips. Jongin climbs onto the bed, then, trying to not make noise as much as possible. He reaches over, then, to tuck those stray strands behind Joonmyun ear, but Joonmyun stirs, turning to the other side so that his face is close to Jongin's chest. He can feel Joonmyun's hot breath through his shirt, tickling and pricking him. He can hear Joonmyun's soft humming and murmuring and thinks, _even in your sleep, you hate the silence._

He reaches for the blanket with his toes and throw the sheet over them. Joonmyun shivers, a small whimper escaping his lips, and Jongin snakes a hand up the back of Joonmyun's head, then pulls Joonmyun closer. Joonmyun purrs against Jongin's shirt, the slow upward pull on his cheeks an easy rhythm against Jongin's chest.

"Silly hyung," Jongin whispers. He buries his face in Jongin's hair, still reeking of the scent of smoke and alcohol and sweat, of regrets. Realizations. A promise of striving for a fresh start.

Jongin takes a deep breath, inhaling another time, and catches the scent of coffee somewhere there. He smiles to himself and thinks, _You're stuck with me, hyung, so get used to it. You're not getting rid of me soon._ He'd addicted, drunk, high on Joonmyun. And this man in his arms is the only cure.

He's a hopeless case.

♬ ♬ ♬

His vision is shittiest in the morning. He isn't exactly blind without his eyeglasses or contacts, but without them seeing clearly becomes a chore. The entire scene unfolding in front of him takes a while to click – the lump of white squiggling out of the cocoon, brown hair sticking out from the covers. A groan, and then a sleepy, "Good morning," directed at him. An equally sleepy smile. Morning breath on his skin, pricking and tickling him. Familiar hands reaching out to rest on his chest, map out a pattern there until he starts giggling.

"Hey, hyung," Jongin mumbles. He hooks his ankle on Joonmyun's own under the covers and pulls him closer. "Good morning."

"Woke up at six," Joonmyun tells him. His voice is muffled by sleep and Jongin's shirt, but Jongin still manages to make out the words, clear as crystal. "I thought of waking you up but you said you don't have classes on Thursdays–"

"And you talk too much in the morning," Jongin interrupts. He tightens his hold on Joonmyun, draping one leg over Joonmyun. He'll have to apologize later, but he hasn't even been awake for five minutes yet. Joonmyun can't hold it against him if he wants to sleep and snuggle more. "Sleep, hyung."

Joonmyun mumbles something that feels really good against Jongin's threadbare shirt. Then he shifts a little so that they're face to face, the tips of their noses touching. Joonmyun's cheeks are pink and his lips are so plush. They'd probably feel good on his own.

"But it's eight," Joonmyun argues. He darts out his tongue to lick his bottom lip, but he only succeeds in holding Jongin's attention and breath. "And the best food in the cafeteria gets served at nine."

"Then we have an hour more to sleep."

Joonmyun laughs a little. " _Jongin._ "

" _Hyung,_ " Jongin says, _whispers,_ so soft that it almost feels like breathing. For a moment, he's concerned that he has morning breath and he's _in front of Joonmyun,_ but all his thoughts get flushed out of his system when Joonmyun cranes his neck a little, searching for a point of contact, craving warmth.

Jongin meets him halfway, leaning closer until Joonmyun's lips brush against his own. This is different from the one they shared in that narrow corridor in the club room – it's lazy, more relaxed, more– It's getting hard to think when Joonmyun's slipping his hands under Jongin's shirt, palms cold against his skin, still warm with sleep. Joonmyun's thumbs draw lines along Jongin's stomach and Jongin parts his lips completely on instinct, as if in invitation. But Joonmyun stays dangerously still, only moving, to suck a little on Jongin's bottom lip before snaking his hands around Jongin's waist.

He has _no idea_ what's happening.

"We will take a bath and _then_ grab breakfast," Joonmyun declares. He gives Jongin's sides a light pinch, then continues, "We leave before nine."

Jongin groans – not at Joonmyun mapping out his normally spontaneous mornings, but at Joonmyun pulling away to sit up on the bed. In a last ditch effort to exact revenge, he gets on his knees on the bed and grabs Joonmyun by the wrist, craning his neck to kiss whatever part of Joonmyun's face that he can reach. In this case, it's Joonmyun's earlobe, and Joonmyun lets out the most _obscene_ sound when Jongin nips on his earlobe.

"Bath," Jongin whispers in Joonmyun ear. He wraps his fingers around Joonmyun's wrist and pulls him to the bathroom without a second thought. Joonmyun doesn't put up a fight, doesn't even flinch when Jongin tightens his grip. The door shuts behind them with a soft click and Joonmyun stands there in front of him, eyes fixed on him and nothing else, like nobody and nothing outside of this matters. Slowly, he peels himself of his clothes – pulls his shirt over his head, tugs his boxers down. Pushes them near the door with his foot. To hell with keeping appearances – there's nothing to hide anymore, not when he's naked in front of Joonmyun and Joonmyun's tracing the curve of his body with his gaze.

Joonmyun's eyes trails south, stopping just before he reaches the dip of Jongin's abdomen. He laughs a little. Jongin feels so vulnerable and exposed all of a sudden, until Joonmyun unbuttons his polo, slipping off of one shoulder, and then another before he tosses it where Jongin's clothes are. His pants come off after that, then his briefs, and Jongin looks away lest he submit himself to the urge to sculpt Joonmyun's thighs with his hands.

"Bath?" Joonmyun asks, voice barely above a whisper.

Jongin nods and steps inside the shower, turning it on. The surge of cold water numbs his limbs for a moment, then he's awake, and Joonmyun's standing right in front of him, stripped down to the bone.

He fumbles with the temperature for a while and lets out a loud exhale when the water hits him just right. "Relax," Joonmyun whispers, voice muffled by the rushing of the water to the floor. Jongin hears him clearly, though – if he doesn't, he makes out syllables through the movement of Joonmyun's lips on his skin.

Joonmyun isn't even pressed against him, just tiptoeing and reaching for the shampoo, rough lips pressed to the back of Jongin's ear. It doesn't mean anything. He just wants to rid himself of the stink of alcohol and sadness. Nothing but a nice, warm shower to start the day right.

But Joonmyun has never been good maintaining balance, and Jongin's reflexes are as fast as ever. Joonmyun slips on the suds pooling at their feet and Jongin turns around, snaking an arm around Joonmyun's waist to keep him from falling. Jongin only succeeds in losing a bit of his balance, though, and Joonmyun presses one hand on the wall, the other one holding onto Jongin's shoulder. Joonmyun has a knee pressed to Jongin's inner thigh. Their chests are heaving. Around them, water pools at their feet, and some of the suds in Jongin's hair drips down his face, tracing the bridge of his nose.

Joonmyun slides his hand down Jongin's skin, settling on the small of Jongin's back. He leans on the wall, then – for support or another reason, Jongin can't seem to process right now – and soon Joonmyun is reaching up, flicking off the suds on Jongin's nose.

"You're really cute," Joonmyun says. Some suds drip on the jut of his upper lip, and he blows at them to get rid of the soap on his lips.

Jongin reaches out, cupping Joonmyun's cheek with one hand and wiping off the suds with his thumb. "What are we doing?"

"Cleaning up," Joonmyun answers. He's standing straight, though, slipping one leg between Jongin's own. The slide of their skin makes Jongin's breath hitch. "Because we're a mess."

Jongin gulps hard. He thinks about drowning, about staying well under the sea and floating with Joonmyun. Thinks of the rushing water behind them and the soap in their hair, and the way soap contours Joonmyun's body when it trails down his torso.

"Messy," Jongin whispers.

Joonmyun cranes his neck until their lips touch. Joonmyun's lips feel so warm against his own. "Very messy."

For something akin to chaos, their mess is well coordinated – Joonmyun lets Jongin guide him up, the hand that was once cupping his cheek sneaking to the back of his head to yank at Joonmyun's hair. Joonmyun tilts his head up, lips falling open, and Jongin gives in to temptation, dips his tongue between the invitation of Joonmyun's lips. He licks the back of Joonmyun teeth, the cavern of his mouth, sucks long and hard on his bottom lip until he can taste a mix of water and soap on his tongue. There's still a hint of alcohol there, somewhere, and whatever Jongin misses at first contact, Joonmyun makes up for when he leans in for another kiss. This time, it's Joonmyun who attacks, sucking marks along the column of Jongin's neck until he reaches Jongin's mouth. He gives Jongin's lips a few gentle nips, easing him into the sensation, and then he's sucking on his tongue, tracing every inch of Jongin's mouth as if a conquest to find _something more._ And Jongin keeps giving, feeding Joonmyun with the same brand of hunger that Joonmyun is claiming his lips with.

Jongin slides his hands down to cup Joonmyu's ass and Joonmyun bucks his hips on impulse. He presses his lips to Jongin's chest, muffling the sound, and Jongin seethes at the sensation, at the slide of their dicks, already hard, against each other.

"Messy," Joonmyun mumbles against Jongin's skin. He looks up, meeting Jongin in the eye, and asks, "Do you– Do you want to–"

 _Do I want to die right here, right now?_ There are a lot of ways that he can answer. It's becoming hard to think, though, with Joonmyun looking up at him like this, eyes laced with a hunger Jongin has never seen before. He catches sight of a small bruise on Joonmyun's lip and he thinks, _I did that. Not Baekhyun-hyung or any other guy. I did that to him._ A familiar sizzle rolls down his abdomen, and he nods like that's what does it for him – the thought that he's marked Joonmyun, that Joonmyun will carry a part of Jongin wherever he goes. That they're here, chests heaving in tandem with each other, in a small bathroom, the heat of their bodies rivaling that of the water beating down on their pressed bodies.

"I want you," Jongin whispers. He feels Joonmyun's cock stir against his skin, and his breath hitches. "I want all of you."

Joonmyun puts some space between them, and Jongin feels torn between wanting to just haphazardly rub against Joonmyun and waiting for Joonmyun to fuck him senseless against the wall. Joonmyun takes things slowly, though, wrapping his fingers around Jongin's cock like he's counting his fingers or plucking petals off a flower. Jongin tries his best not to move so much, tries not to buck into Joonmyun's loose fist. Joonmyun gives his cock a gentle squeeze, teasing, then starts moving, a slow upward and downward motion, a slick twist here, a light scratch of the nail there.

Joonmyun runs his thumb along the vein and Jongin gasps, cries out, swallows it in embarrassment. Joonmyun doesn't laugh at him, though, only meets his eyes in a steady gaze and cranes his neck to meet Jongin's lips, like he means to steal all the sound from Jongin's throat.

"You should sing more," Joonmyun whispers he gives Jongin's cock a few pumps, then rubs circles on the tip. Jongin feels his thighs tremble and _shit_ , he wants Joonmyun to touch him more, touch him everywhere. And he wants to touch Joonmyun. He wants to feel Joonmyun move against him, inside him, in tandem with him. Joonmyun doesn't give him much time to wonder, though, leaving open-mouthed kisses on his chest, then taking a nipple between his lips and playing with it with his teeth. The loose fist around Jongin's cock tightens, and Jongin digs his nails into Joonmyun's ass. The response is instant – Joonmyun's lips tremble on his skin and Joonmyun jerks his hips forward, and Jongin meets him halfway, grinding against him even in the tight wrap of Joonmyun's fingers on his cock.

"You're not good at this waiting thing, aren't you?" Joonmyun asks, smiling a little.

"Never been patient," Jongin whispers. He bucks his hips again, hitting a better angle this time that earns him a gasp and a light nip on his nipple from Joonmyun. "And I think you're shit at it, too."

Joonmyun laughs. His whole body is shaking, and it makes Jongin feel that maybe Joonmyun wants this as much as he does – wants, not needs. That Joonmyun wants him right here, right now, and that maybe Joonmyun is willing to let the water rushing down their bodies wash away all the memories he's forged with Baekhyun. That when they step out of the showers, he'll want him just as much as Jongin does. Joonmyun reaches up, then, tracing the curve of Jongin's face, and brings Jongin closer, crushing their lips together. Sleep is no longer thick in Joonmyun's movements, the way he licks his way inside Jongin's mouth more fervent, more feverish than before. And Jongin keeps giving, moans and groans as he grinds against the press of their cocks against each other. The friction burns.

Jongin parts for some air, then guides Joonmyun's hand to his own cock. "Together," he whispers, choking before he ends. Joonmyun nods and takes their dicks in his hands, a bit too uncomfortable with the way he stretches his fingers apart. Jongin helps him, lays his hand atop Joonmyun's own and motions for Joonmyun to move faster. The jerking is more erratic now, and every light scratch of Joonmyun's nails on his sensitive skin makes him – throw his head back? Tuck his chin and nibble on Joonmyun's ear and lick the shell and whisper all sorts of things in Joonmyun's ears? There is no pattern to this, neither any sense nor logic. All there is is Joonmyun's skin turning cold against his.

"Fuck–" Joonmyun whimpers when Jongin reaches south to cup one of his balls. "Fuck, Jongin– I–"

Jongin does that again, gives Joonmyun's balls a light squeeze and draws lazy circles with his thumb. Joonmyun moans, louder than before, and everything starts to blur in Jongin's mind. Joonmyun pumps them harder, faster, twists their linked hands as they jerk each other off in the hot press of their cocks against each other. He can feel himself getting closer, teetering off the edge, so he leans in to catch Joonmyun's lower lip with his teeth, gives it a light nip, and kisses Joonmyun while rolling his hips, thrusting into their tight fists.

He comes with a low moan, in the messy slide of their mouths, spilling his release all over their knuckles and Joonmyun's chest. Joonmyun's not far off, thighs trembling and chest heavy and all these tiny whimpers spilling from his lips in a clumsy enunciation. So Jongin kisses the giving flesh at the back of Joonmyun's ear, squeezes Joonmyun's ass, dips his thumb in the cleft of Joonmyun's ass and gives Joonmyun's entrance light rubs.

"Jongin, I'm–" Joonmyun buries his face in Jongin's chest. Jongin presses down harder, moves his hand when Joonmyun's fingers begin to shake.

Joonmyun comes with a thin, reedy moan, a string of _Jongin, Jongin, Jong–in–_ spilling from his lips as he rides it out. Jongin doesn't kiss him, listens for the hitch in Joonmyun's breath, the last syllable of his name tumbling from the corners of Joonmyun's mouth. Only when Joonmyun looks up at him through half-lidded eyes, through the mess of wet and tousled hair, does Jongin lean in to capture his lips in a kiss, slow and languid. And Joonmyun melts against his mouth, the groan bubbling on his lips when their cocks, still oversensitive, touch. They stay like that for a few seconds, pressed so close to each other, Joonmyun fitting perfectly in Jongin's arms.

"Hyung?" Jongin says when he finds his voice again.

Joonmyun sucks a mark on his chest. Jongin trembles a little, thighs shaking, but Joonmyun looks up at him and pins him with a stare. "Hmm?"

"I, uh..." Jongin laughs a little. "I... forgot to get us a fresh change of clothes."

Joonmyun chuckles, the sound dripping from his lips like droplets of water converging into rich laughter. He's jabbing Jongin in the stomach, twisting his nipples, slapping Jongin in the ass, but none of those are harmless. If anything, they're saying, _You planned this. You planned everything all along, and I can't believe I let you drag me into this mess–_ But Joonmyun doesn't say anything, just keeps hitting him until all that Jongin feels is not the dull ache of Joonmyun's knuckles digging into his skin but Joonmyun's laughter on his flesh.

The vibrations tickle him, send a shiver down his spine, set off explosions at the tips of his fingers. Makes a choir of angels sing in his ear or something to that effect, except they all sound like Joonmyun and they're singing _Someday, We'll Know_. And somewhere in that song, he hears himself harmonizing with Joonmyun, their voices melding into one.

He laughs, burying his face in Joonmyun's wet hair. The song keeps playing.

♬ ♬ ♬

Soojung's greeting the following day comes in two forms: a pinch on the arm, then a frown when she says, "How's oppa?"

"Which?" is Zitao's helpful question. It makes sense – Baekhyun would probably be more open to talking with him than with Joonmyun after that hugeass confrontation-slash-break-up, if it can ever be considered one. Or maybe he'd find stuff out through Chanyeol, but the most he's seen of Chanyeol in the past twenty-four hours is a tuft of hair. He contemplates seeking out Baekhyun, but that might not be the wisest idea – this isn't his battle to fight. He's fighting the same war with Joonmyun, yes, but he's just handing out the weapons; he has no right to call the shots.

Then his mind goes back to the time when they were pressed against each other in the bathroom, the time when they stepped out of the showers and ended up laughing between kisses because, "Fuck, it's cold out here!" The time when they tumbled in bed and got the sheets wet and soiled. And then the time when Joonmyun buttoned up Jongin's polo and gave him the fondest smile as he said, "You're really, really cute."

"Hyung's fine, I guess." If fine means Joonmyun isn't shunning Jongin away and retreating to his cave, then Joonmyun's fine. He even uploaded a video on Thursday night, apologizing for the late update and then recommending a new track from Sum 41. And they've been texting ever since. Sure, most of Joonmyun's texts are reminders for Jongin to eat, get some rest, do his homework, _I'm okay, don't think about me too much,_ but at least isn't closing himself off from people. "Yeah, I think he's taking things well. Being busy with his thesis helps."

Zitao looks at him for a while, eyebrows only lightly furrowed but knitted, nonetheless. His lips are twisted in a weird manner that makes Jongin wonder if Zitao thinks he's hiding Joonmyun in his dorm. That would be... really weird. And creepy. "Did you finish my Combos alone yesterday?" Zitao finally asks.

Jongin smiles a little and answers, "Nope."

Zitao cocks an eyebrow at him, then kicks him under the table. "Okay," he mumbles. To Soojung, he says, "Yeah, hyung's probably doing fine."

Soojung only raises an eyebrow at them but doesn't prod. She doesn't ask even on their way to their last class for the day from the cafeteria, or even during the discussion on Impressionist art that Jongin knows she hates. She does hand him her phone halfway through the lecture, though. A text from Chanyeol greets him, saying, _yeah hyung's fine, rly doing well tbh? passed his thesis today, 3 days ahead of sked. v weird but hey i'm just rly happy that he's not moping or anything._

Jongin whips out his phone and bites the inside of his cheek when he sees a message from Joonmyun. _Told Kim-sonsaengnim that you helped me with some parts of my thesis. He said he's interested in mentoring you come thesis time. Ayieeee ;)_

 _can i get you to idk pre-mentor me or something? kekeke,_ he replies.

 _Anything for my favorite ;),_ Joonmyun replies.

It takes every inch of Jongin to not break out into a huge grin in class. Soojung's shooting him a crazy look, like it isn't normal to feel happy about anything related to academics, and Jongin just shrugs it off. If the professor ever calls him out on it, he can say that he's getting mentored by Kim Jonghyun, program director of the Film department. And that Jonghyun finds him amusing, maybe, but that's just a hypothesis right now. It won't be good for thesis practice even if there's still a good five semesters until then.

He has enough time to train under Joonmyun. They have enough time. He's not in a rush. He isn't going anywhere and neither is Joonmyun. They're stuck – here, together, with each other. And neither of them seems to mind at all.

♬ ♬ ♬

He bumps into Baekhyun on his way back to his room. More like Baekhyun camps out at his room, comfortable in his seat on the floor with his back against the wall, readings and all. Two things about it startle Jongin – one, the fact that Baekhyun sought him out and that Baekhyun looks like shit at the moment, which means the entire 'chaos' affected him; and two, the fact that Baekhyun knows where his room is despite them not communicating outside of broadcasting club activities. A part of him wants to applaud Baekhyun for feeling guilty enough to look like this – hair disheveled, eyes sullen, dark circles under his eyes making him look years older – but part of him _knows_ that Joonmyun wouldn't want to see him like this. Baekhyun can't be as heartless as he seems. There must be something in him, something about him that kept Joonmyun from walking away.

So Jongin lets out a loud exhale and says, "Hyung, you look horrible." He moves closer and crouches, meeting Baekhyun at eye-level. "Have you even been eating?"

"Yeah. Sort of," Baekhyun replies. Whatever stress is written on his features is washed away by the small smile on his lips, the lilt in his voice when he replies to Jongin. There's a glint in his eyes, too, despite the dark circles, and Jongin thinks, _maybe that's it,_ the magic that Joonmyun saw in Baekhyun. The same magic that has won Baekhyun that girl, and has kept Joonmyun on a leash for so long. It's like he brings sunshine wherever he goes just by dropping the right words. A sweet talker – that's what Baekhyun is. An obnoxiously charming sweet talker.

"Do you…" Baekhyun puffs his cheeks, then lets out the air in a loud exhale. "Do you have time to talk?"

Jongin's response is unlocking the door to his room and gesturing for Baekhyun to take a seat. Funny, Jongin thinks, because just twenty-four hours ago, Joonmyun was there, sleeping on the same bed. Sleeping _with_ Jongin, a snug fit in Jongin's arms. Baekhyun and Joonmyun are like a stereo waveform – humming a different tune on two different channels, the left and the right, and coming together in a twisted kind of song. 

"Make yourself comfortable, hyung," he says, then, and tosses a bag of chips on the bed in an effort to ease the tension. He's never been good with dealing with people, moreso persons the people he cares about have issues with. "That's my current favorite. Not sure if you're a fan of wasabi but–"

"I was a douchebag," Baekhyun says at the same time that he opens the bag of chips. Jongin looks over his shoulder from where he removes his cardigan. Baekhyun meets his gaze, then munches some chips before continuing, "I'm sorry for being a douchebag and I'm sorry that you three… had to see that. Thing. The other day."

Jongin sits beside Baekhyun on the bed and takes a handful of chips from the bag. "You're forgiven. For being a douchebag," Jongin answers. The word 'douchebag' feels nice rolling off his tongue. He never thought he'd say that – he'd always preferred 'asshat', after all. "But I'm not sure if _I'm_ the one you should be apologizing to."

There's a thick silence for a while, disrupted only by the sound of crunching and munching. The white noise isn't unsettling, but it's not the same as the companionable silence he shares with Joonmyun when they study in the club room, or even when they just eat opposite each other in the cafeteria, the tips of their shoes bumping under the table. His stomach does a tiny lurch. Baekhyun bites a bit too hard on his lower lip. It'll be a bad call to keep eating the wasabi chips with the bruise on Baekhyun's lips, but he keeps munching on them, anyway, like each thin slice of potato will fuel him with energy and give him more reason to continue with his speech.

"Three days," Baekhyun finally says. He swallows hard, clearing his throat before he continues. "It takes him three days to recalibrate. I know he's still… in limbo, probably? So I can't talk to him yet. He won't like that. He… doesn't like being vulnerable. Makes him feel smaller than he already is."

Jongin's heart gives a tiny squeak – or at least he thinks it does, what with the sharp pang of pain in his chest. He didn't know that. He does, now, thanks to Baekhyun.

"He doesn't… seem to like silence, either," Jongin then says.

Baekhyun lets out a loud exhale, stuffs himself with chips again. Jongin takes a handful, too. "You're more observant than I thought," Baekhyun replies.

Jongin raises an eyebrow at him. "I happen to be–"

"His number one fan, right?" Baekhyun finishes. Jongin tenses. He feels something thick lodge itself in his throat, and his muscles clench around that, a lump of words that won't ever come out. "You've followed him for a while already. Man, if you were able to get past the horrendous outfits–"

Jongin snorts. "Ah. Glad to know I'm not alone."

He laughs a little and really, he knows that's a good comment, but Baekhyun isn't laughing. A corner of his mouth is tugged up more than the other, in a weird sort of smile-scowl. Jongin's breath hitches and _shit,_ Joonmyun does that with his lips when he doesn't want to be figured out. When he hasn't figured himself out yet. So Jongin waits for the continuation, waits for Baekhyun to stop looking at him in a way that only makes him realize all the more how the two fit.

"If you got past those awful outfits, then you must have respected him a lot. Liked him _a lot._ " Baekhyun chuckles, soft, scratchy. He shakes his head. "I thought there was just this… fan-idol thing going on. Y'know, the type where the fan worships his idol and basically seeks help from him to be saved, but–"

Jongin gulps hard. "But?"

Baekhyun pops a few crisps in his mouth. There are crumbs at the corners of his lips, but he doesn't brush them off or even lick at them. It adds a bit of character to Baekhyun, Jongin thinks, this certain brand of stubbornness. More and more, it's beginning to make sense, the way Baekhyun and Joonmyun align – Joonmyun needs someone who can break down his firm resolve. Baekhyun needed a puzzle to crack. They needed to appreciate themselves better, and they found mirror images in each other, albeit with a few quirks – Joonmyun with his understated confidence, and Baekhyun with his bright smiles and laughter.

It all makes sense now, and a part of Jongin wishes it didn't. A part of him wishes that this – Joonmyun seeing Baekhyun with that girl, the night drowned in alcohol, the kiss in the showers – did. The tight press of their bodies on his bed after their bath. Jongin meeting Joonmyun in real life and Jongin ditching this perfect image of his online idol for _the real deal._

Baekhyun lets out a loud exhale. "But it looks like he was the one who needed saving all along."

Jongin furrows his eyebrows. His first instinct is to say, "Huh?" His second is to lean back and look at Baekhyun, really look at him, just to see if he's bluffing or anything. He doesn't know Baekhyun well enough and sometimes he's shit at body language, so he goes back to the tone Baekhyun used that time. He's always been better at dissecting sound. Baekhyun's voice was steady then, no lilts or hitches or cracks, and he isn't laughing. His shoulders aren't even shaking. He just has that silly smile on his lips that says more than it should – _wow, I can't believe I just figured it out,_ or _I can't believe it took you a while to figure that out._ Alternatively, _I've know him longer than you did but you were the one who fixed him. Made him better._

Baekhyun shakes his head, and laughter begins to bubble on his lips. Finally, he says, "I guess one mess can't make another better, yeah?"

"But–" Jongin worries his bottom lip. "I dunno, hyung. I… didn't do anything. Saving him? _What?_ " Jongin rolls his eyes. "That's crazy! All I did was bug him during residency hours and oh, that thing with his thesis. Yeah, I guess I sorta helped but… to save him?" He shakes his head, laughing. "Nope. Too much for little old me."

Baekhyun cocks an eyebrow at him. "Two things, Jongin: you're not little, and you're not old. That's _me,_ " he says through gritted teeth. Jongin mumbles an apology, then, and gets cut off by Baekhyun waving his hand about. "We're… too similar. He needed someone so different from him to make him see how he could… I dunno, be better I guess? The things that he can change about himself?" He takes one chip, holds it up against the light. "I dunno if you noticed but he's an old soul trapped in an old guy's body. Worn down by experience. I showed him workarounds but you showed him a solution, Jongin. And solutions solve problems."

 _Duh,_ Jongin wants to say, but he doesn't. Instead, he says, "He's not a problem, though."

"Just problematic. A ticking time bomb, actually." Baekhyun laughs a little. "He was bound to explode, eventually. And he already did. You just… managed to keep the casualties to a minimum."

 _That would be you and him,_ Jongin muses. _And me._ But that doesn't matter. The mess has already been cleaned up a bit. Renovations will take a while, but hey – at least this is a start. A slightly clean waveform is better than one loaded with plosives and sibilances. And white noise. Jongin can be the faint music in the background for Joonmyun if Joonmyun's still sick of silence.

"Thanks, hyung," Jongin mumbles. Baekhyun's mid-bite when he stops, looking at Jongin. He slips the rest of the chip in his mouth, then, and Jongin takes it as a sign to continue. "I know it sounds weird but… You _were_ able to make him happy, you know? It's just that things were really messy." Baekhyun gives him a half-smile, half-frown thing, and Jongin laughs a little. "And I think he'd be open to talking to you now? Especially if your intro is the same as what you told me. Just… start with 'sorry I was a douchebag', instead."

"You're something," Baekhyun says, shaking his head. "I used to wonder what he saw in you but I think I get it now."

"Same," Jongin says before he even realizes that he's blurted it out. Baekhyun pinches him in his side but doesn't let go of the bag of chips just yet. "But yeah. I sort of… get things now. _Sort of._ "

"Oh, don't spend time trying to figure _me_ out. You crack that other tough cookie of yours," Baekhyun replies. He looks into the bag, then, and frowns. Jongin guesses that they've emptied it out already. That would be the fastest he's cleaned out a bag of wasabi chips yet. But then Baekhyun dips his hand inside, takes out a lone piece of crisp. "Take it," Baekhyun says. "It's yours."

Jongin snorts. "Yeah, I gave it to you–"

"It's _yours,_ " Baekhyun says again, slower this time. "You gave me a bag of chips without a second thought and I ate half of it. Shamelessly." He laughs, but his voice cracks somewhere in the middle. "So take the last piece. As a… peace offering, I guess."

Jongin gives the piece of crisp a long look. _It's just a wasabi crisp,_ Sehun would probably tell him, but this is different – this is _his_ wasabi crisp, something Baekhyun had claimed ownership over earlier but eventually surrendered. So Jongin takes it, marvels at it for a moment, then pops it in his mouth. He chews, noisy, and Baekhyun only shakes his head at him. The smile on his lips remains, though.

Baekhyun rolls up the empty bag of chips and tosses it into the trash can. It's a goal.

♬ ♬ ♬

_So Baekhyun and I talked,_ comes Joonmyun's first text. The second reads, _And it went pretty okay?_

If there's a major adjustment that he had to make following Baekhyun fucking up and then making things right, it's having to be hyperaware of his phone all the time. Sehun isn't the type to send messages all the time, and if he ever wanted to tell Jongin anything at once then he won't text. He'd call, because Sehun isn't the type to sit around and wait for something to happen. Joonmyun is a fan of texting, though, sends only short messages at first that get lengthier as time progresses. At one point, Jongin had to wait for five messages to come in before he was able to digest the story of Joonmyun's text.

It's only been three days and a few hours since Joonmyun decided to terminate the contract with Baekhyun, but Jongin _thinks_ he's got this down already. He knows Joonmyun doesn't text much in the afternoon because the afternoon heat always lulls him to sleep or _at least_ makes him less productive than he should be. He's most active when having breakfast _and then_ after consultation with Jonghyun. It always seems like he has a lot of things to say, strong opinions on a lot of matters in life. He even has an opinion on how the yellow radish in the cafeteria is served. Jongin only laughed at that, rolled his eyes and said, _just eat the thing hyung lol._

 _can i call u hyung?_ Jongin replies. It's late in the evening and God knows his energy when it comes to texting starts to decline at 9 p.m.. Joonmyun's response is a buzz of the phone five seconds after, and a soft _hey_ on the other end of the line.

"Sorry, my thumbs are pretty sore," Jongin groans when Joonmyun greets him with laughter. "We were doing major editing earlier and I was using my thumb to hit the space bar every second."

"You're exaggerating," Joonmyun says, doesn't say, _you're lying._ Joonmyun is careful with words; he knows the repercussions that the misuse of a word can bring, especially in broadcasting.

"Probably," Jongin mumbles, then rushes, "So, you and Baekhyun-hyung talked?" He rolls over so that he's lying flat on his stomach, then shifts in his position when he feels a biting pain in his arms. Who knew sound editing could be an effective workout? "Is 'pretty okay' a euphemism for 'we're friends again'?"

"Maybe," Joonmyun singsongs. There's the danger of Joonmyun and Baekhyun 'getting back together', whatever that's supposed to mean. The mere thought of it makes Jongin want to throw up. "Nah, I'm kidding. We were… calm, I guess. Civil. But I love the introduction – he said he was sorry for being a douchebag and that he'd never pull off the same thing with anyone again."

Jongin laughs a little. Joonmyun hums on the other side of the line, but it isn't because of the silence. This brand of humming – and yes, Jongin has classified them into types – means he knows Jongin is up to something weird. Or _was_ up to something weird a few days back; the timeline varies sometimes. After a while, Joonmyun asks, "You two talked before he went to me, didn't you?"

"No?"

Joonmyun snorts. "You're not sure?"

"I mean yeah, I'm sure we didn't," Jongin mumbles. He's a shitty liar. Even his professors know that. That's why he can't lie about the status of his reports or even the tiny projects. It's awful sometimes. "Fine, fine, we did. Sort of. More like, he apologized to me and said he was repentant. And that he'll give you time to recalibrate before he approaches you or something."

On the other end of the line, Joonmyun chuckles. "He said you picked up on the silence thing," Joonmyun says. His voice trails off and then he's letting out a loud exhale. Something crackles in the phone line a little. "And I figured I owed you an explanation, at the very least." Joonmyun sniffles then exhales again, but it's softer this time. "Since you had to put up with me in the booth, when I didn't want to sing at first."

Jongin doesn't have to strain his hearing to hear the tiny lilts in Joonmyun's voice, the cracks. Doesn't have to listen to a few more lines from Joonmyun to know that his throat probably feels tight and heavy and dry. "You don't have to, hyung. I mean, we're all entitled to our own secrets," Jongin explains. "And really, if you're not comfortable telling me about that then it's–"

"It… started when I fucked up a performance. It was in front of the entire campus back in second year, when I hadn't shifted to Broadcasting yet." There's rustling in the background, then Joonmyun's heavy breathing. Jongin doesn't know what to make of it, but his palms feel sweaty somehow. The thumping in his chest grows steadily louder, each beat heavier than before. Joonmyun is breathing shallowly; he only ever does this when he's running low on sleep or– "In one of our classes, we had to do a musical. All the sections for that particular subject were battling it out for a perfect A in that subject."

Jongin has half the mind to ask Joonmyun what that subject is so he can avoid it, but the thundering pulse just behind his ears numbs him a little. He hums in response, instead, urging Joonmyun to go on.

"We did a… remix of The Phantom of the Opera. In hindsight, it was a pretty ambitious project." Joonmyun laughs a little, but it comes out dry, a bit scratchy. "And I guess I was pretty ambitious, too, for wanting to play the role. Nobody would step up, though, so I got it. Practiced day and night to get my lines right. Stayed late in the theatre with my partner just so we could perfect our songs and our routine."

Jongin clenches his fists when Joonmyun's voice cracks at the word 'perfect'. Joonmyun is probably blowing at his bangs, but he only succeeds in blowing into the receiver. "Everything went well until the finale. That was… The phantom has a solo number at the end and my voice cracked somewhere. It wasn't–" Joonmyun laughs again, but it's fainter this time. Like he isn't sure if he's so keen on laughing at himself.

"It wasn't even the most difficult part of the song, but I guess I strained my vocals too much?" Joonmyun continues. He heaves a sigh, voice even softer than before. "But then if I was planning to pursue a career in singing, I should've been prepared for it already. I guess it's just not for me. So… that's it! That's the story behind the silence," Joonmyun finishes.

Jongin gulps hard and lets himself fall into bed. Never mind that the soft 'thud' will probably be heard on the other side of the line – he hears the same from Joonmyun, too. He's trying to create noise again, albeit soft, and Jongin feels the need to make even the tiniest bit of music just to make Joonmyun feel comfortable again. So he hums – nobody ever said that he wasn't allowed to – just so Joonmyun could conquer his fear of his silence.

"Hey," Joonmyun says after a while. The sheets on the other end of the line rustle again. Jongin mimics it, the sound, and shifts in his position so that he's sitting up, his back against the headboard of his bed. "Say something, _please._ "

"I dunno what to say, hyung. I–" He scratches the blanket and hugs the closest pillow to his chest. "I think you have a beautiful voice. I'd listen record it, to be honest. I'd listen to it _everyday._ "

Joonmyun laughs, snorts, chuckles in no particular order. He sounds just as lost as Jongin is. _You don't have to go through this alone, hyung,_ Jongin thinks. _We can get through this mess together._

"You're just saying that because you're my friend," Joonmyun mumbles.

"I don't know about that, hyung," Jongin teases. "Because I don't think friends jerk each other off in the showers–"

"You're _missing_ the point!"

The point is that they've laid down all the cards on the table, and they both won. Or they both lost; it just depends on how you look at it. "The point is that there's still an opportunity, hyung," Jongin says, "to make things better. Fix things, I guess. Or make them look pretty. I mean, that's the bad side of broadcasting, but not all bad things have to lead to more bad things, right?"

Joonmyun lets out a loud exhale. "I wish I had your thirst for life, Kim Jongin," he whispers. "I wish I could have as much wonder for things as you do."

"Hey, hyung, I just got this from you," Jongin replies. "Remember: I've been following your online career for, what, half a decade? Watched all your videos, even the behind-the-scenes that seemed more scripted than anything else." Joonmyun makes a small sound on the other end of the line, like he wants to protest or something, but he doesn't. He just laughs a little, maybe even sighs and he exhales into the receiver. It unties the knots of tension in Jongin's shoulders. "I liked the fact that you didn't give a fuck that you were wearing that awful get up of yours and then giving people song recommendations. _Ballads,_ even!" Jongin snorts, remembering that time when $uho talked about Josh Groban's influence in his life in depth. He can't be mistaken – $uho had tears at the corners of his eyes then. _Joonmyun_ really was moved by Josh Groban's music, and even with the thin veil of a computer screen between $uho and Jongin, Jongin was able to see it.

"I did give a fuck, for the record," Joonmyun argues. "Chanyeol thought the contrast in styles added more… character to $uho."

Jongin laughs a little. "It added more of _you_ to $uho."

Silence is thick again, but it isn't sickening. It doesn't make his stomach turn, and neither does it make his breath hitch. It makes him listen – for any lilts in Joonmyun's voice, for gaps in his breathing because he's good at detecting sound. He's always been good at that.

And maybe he's getting good at figuring Joonmyun out, too.

" _drealkimkai2007,_ " Joonmyun says out of the blue. Jongin's eyes shoot up, and he freezes for a moment. He stays still until Joonmyun continues, "I always thought he was pretty obsessed because he always got the first comment spot in my videos. Then after a while, I thought–"

"That Kai's creepy?" Jongin asks. He worries his bottom lip.

"That he's… amusing. And dedicated," Joonmyun answers. Jongin can hear it, the smile in Joonmyun's voice, and that, alone, is enough to make his stomach lurch again, stumble forward, like the day they met in the broadcasting room. "And cute. You… had your picture in your Youtube account."

"I can't believe it, hyung," Jongin says. "You've been my fan all along and I haven't even kickstarted my career yet!"

Joonmyun laughs, hearty and loud, but it doesn't sound shrill. It doesn't make Jongin hold the phone away from his ear; in fact, he presses closer to it, tucking his phone between his cheek and his shoulder. He closes his eyes and just listens to the sound of Joonmyun's laughter, much like a song, and lets it fill his senses until he's laughing, _harmonizing_ with him.

When Joonmyun catches his breath again, he says, "I'm your number one fan." Jongin bites hard on his lower lip and he's glad that Joonmyun isn't around to see the crazy smile tugging up at the corners of his mouth. "Always have and always will be."

♬ ♬ ♬

It takes another break to free up his schedule and set up a Skype call with Sehun. He's back in Gyeonggi-do where his internet connection is more stable and really, there's nothing better to do during the two-week break. It's both a blessing and a curse – with all his course work for the week done when they return to school done and Pokemon Omega Ruby beaten with Joonmyun, there's nothing to keep him from leaving his room for something other than food. Until they go to Busan to visit his grandparents, at least, but that doesn't happen until next week.

"So you're saying," comes Sehun's voice from the other end of the call. "That you're talking to me just because you're bored."

"Basically," Jongin says in agreement, then cackles. It's only half true – he hasn't talked to Sehun in weeks. Both of them have been busy, Sehun even more after asking his professors for more academic work so he can pull his grades up. Somehow, being able to prove that the girl copied from him without his knowledge wasn't enough a form of revenge from him; now he's using grades as his last 'fuck you' to the girl. _She'll be so fucking sorry that she played with an academic superstar,_ Sehun had said before. _She'll be sorry and she'll never think of doing it ever again._

"I feel used," Sehun says, then waves his hand dramatically in the air before resting the back of his hand on his forehead. "And I've never felt more humiliated in my whole life–"

"Whatever, Sehun," Jongin mumbles in reply, eyes still fixed on the screen of his DS. He's hatching eggs today in an attempt to get a good nature for his Eeveelutions collection. He's never loved the cycling path in the Hoenn region more than he does now. "So, what've you been up to? Other than studying, of course."

"This and that," Sehun replies, disappears from the screen. Jongin can still hear the faint rustling of the bed sheets in the background so Sehun hasn't been disconnected yet. Sehun resurfaces with a print out of _something_ that he's shielding from Jongin's view. It takes no more than two seconds for him to brandish it in front of the camera, revealing a picture all too familiar that it almost makes Jongin's insides turn. _Almost._

"You miss me that much?" Jongin asks.

"Yeah, sort of," Sehun admits. He looks nothing like he does in the picture, a kid bawling his eyes out _because Sehunnie misses Jonginnie so much!_ "I have a couple of friends here but… it's different, you know? There's another Korean here – Minseok-hyung, I think I told you about him before – but he's not you."

Jongin snorts. He doesn't know what to make of that. He _does_ know what to do when his mind starts coming up with all sorts of scenarios, though – _focus, Jongin, focus,_ a voice at the back of his mind says. It sounds a lot like Joonmyun. It _is_ Joonmyun.

"Aww, that's sweet," Jongin coos. Sehun whispers a _fuck you_ at him and Jongin replies, without batting an eyelash, "Nah, sorry, man. Not interested." Years ago, it would've been difficult to say that, but now it comes to him more naturally, almost like breathing. He's no longer anchored to that point in time where he wouldn't let anybody who isn't Sehun into his heart, his life. 

"Really?" Sehun asks. He fixes Jongin with a gaze.

Jongin laughs a little. Years later and Sehun is still shit at expressing himself, his emotions. "Really."

Sehun's eyes flicker, and then his lips fall open to a small 'o'. He presses them together soon after, pouting a little, but soon there's a small smile on his lips. Jongin remembers this smile – he still has a catalogue of Sehun's expressions at the back of his mind – and he knows that this one means, _oh, okay,_ even if those two words are some of the easiest to say. This isn't an admission of defeat, not for Sehun. This is an admission of how things are and have become, that life goes on. They're both heading to two different directions, but that doesn't mean they won't meet again at one point in time.

"So how are things going with $uho?" Sehun then asks. "Have you two… I mean, are you two a thing yet or what?"

"It's–" Complicated, Jongin would say, but _it's not supposed to be,_ so instead, he answers, "We're working things out. I guess. I mean, we know we like each other and–"

"If you two know that then what's stopping you?" Sehun laughs, then shakes his head. "It's like prolonging the agony or something!"

Jongin wants to say, _we're taking things slowly._ The story of Baekhyun and Joonmyun was a rollercoaster ride that went off track, so they can't take the same route. They'd be stupid to do so. So Joonmyun had told him before the break, "Let's see if it changes anything." Makes things better or worse, because time apart doesn't always make the heart grow fonder. Sometimes it allows you to find other things, develop new interests. Find something _better_ for you _and_ find yourself.

So far, Jongin has only found himself spending more time on his phone, lying flat on his back as he sends Joonmyun texts. He wakes up to sticker greetings from Joonmyun, and falls asleep to Joonmyun telling him to _get as much rest as you can because you'll need that after the break. Finals week is deadly. So rest up, okay? Sweet dreams, Jonginnie._

A hitch of the breath, and then, _dream of me._

"'Delayed gratification' sounds better," Jongin says. He sticks his tongue out at Sehun when Sehun gives him a scowl and rolls his eyes at him. "But we _have_ been talking everyday, and–"

A message comes in. Jongin reaches for his phone from under his pillow and tries not to grin with Sehun still on the Skype call. _Just realized that breeding isn't for me :( Will you accept love and affection in exchange for Eevee eggs? :D_

"You're smiling. Really wide. It's creepy," Sehun says on the other end of the line. "Did _boyfriend_ send you a text? Or a sexy nude, hmm?"

"Shut up, Sehun," Jongin says, not even looking over his shoulder. He stares at his screen for a while.

The easiest reply is a 'yes', really, but that takes away the meat of his response. It's supposed to be, _Sure, hyung, but no refunds okay? Because once you give me that then I'll really think we're a 'thing' already._ But he doesn't want to freak Joonmyun out. It's only been a few days since the start of the break and there's still another week until the term resumes – he won't rush into things. He doesn't want to for fear of scaring Joonmyun off. Joonmyun's like one of those tiny Pokemon who'd jump out of the grass the moment you step inside the grassy area. Or he's the peak in the sound wave, the brick wall where the substance of the sound gets cut off when the volume is too loud. And Jongin doesn't want Joonmyun to take a step back or shed some of himself off just because of one mistake. He wants Joonmyun, with all of his quirks. He wants Joonmyun, silence and all.

So he takes a deep breath and says, _really, hyung? :)_ He hits 'send' even before he can think twice.

His phone sounds off. There's the sound of Sehun laughing in the background when Jongin falls face-flat on his bed in an attempt to hide the smile on his lips.

 _Yup,_ Joonmyun says. _You can have all of me. :)_

♬ ♬ ♬

There's still a good three days before classes resume, but Jongin still decides to take a quick trip to Seokgwan-dong. The prices of the game cartridges in the game shop he and Zitao frequent are much cheaper than the normal price – "They're original, I promise," Zitao had assured him – after all. Breeding eggs can only cure his boredom for so long, and he's reached the point where he can't breed for a Timid Eevee without going insane when he hatches eggs of a different nature. The cure? A new game, preferably something that isn't like Pokemon.

Who is he kidding, though? He'll probably end up getting something like it. Or maybe he can check out that game Zitao's been raving about, create his own characters and give himself a better hairstyle in the game since he can't decide on yet in real life.

The game shop is a good twenty-minute walk from the station, ten minutes if you're coming from the Seokgwan campus of K-ARTS. Fifteen, if you're drunk, but Jongin's far from being inebriated right now. He hasn't had alcohol since the start of the break, and they only had shandy that time because Zitao's tolerance is so low, it's laughable.

He takes a deep breath when he reaches the store, then pushes the door forward. Familiar faces greet him. He's been here enough times for the 'game master', Junsu, to recognize him at first glance. A familiar memory of a promise with Joonmyun hits him square on the face, too. 

It turns out that the title he's looking for is called 'Tomodachi Life', or at least that's what Junsu tells him. "The new stock just came in, actually, so this is good timing," Junsu says as he leads Jongin to the New Arrivals section. Jongin squints at the cartridges lined up in the shelf, then, going through each and every single one of them so that he won't miss any good titles or at least games that sound interesting enough. There's Fire Emblem and a DS remake of Robocop but with _tougher crimes!_ , but still no sign of Tomodachi Life. Heck, there's even the new Dragon Quest game which is marginally more obscure than Tomodachi Life – at this point, he's pretty positive that Junsu's just shitting him.

He moves a few more spaces and bumps into someone. "Whoops, sorry!" he says at once, bowing to the person in apology.

"Jongin?" comes a familiar voice.

Jongin opens his eyes then looks up, meeting the source of the voice in the eye. He laughs a little. Out of all the places to see each other, this is where they meet during the break – a tiny game shop near the school. A bit too far from Gyeonggi-do, a good distance from Gangnam – and yet here they are. Joonmyun's in one of his Chanyeol-looking shirts and it looks horrible on him, makes him look so tiny and cute. The cardigan is a bit of a savior.

"Hey, hyung," he says in greeting, then, and he straightens his legs as he stands up. "You're… here."

Joonmyun chuckles. "Apgeu's not too far from Seokgwan. Not much of a hassle to travel to." He turns back to the shelves and grabs the lone copy of Pokemon SoulSilver. "You're here to buy…?"

"Tomodachi Life," Jongin answers. He reaches out, meaning to hold Joonmyun's hand, but they're in public so he disguises it as an attempt to snatch the title from Joonmyun. He's not sure how Joonmyun feels about public display of affection yet. He starts with the wrist, giving it a light squeeze, then slides his hand up until his palm is pressed to the back of Joonmyun's hand. Joonmyun feels warm. "You're getting Pokemon SoulSilver?" He snorts. "That's an old title, hyung."

"I… missed this particular remake," Joonmyun mumbles. There's a light pink dusting his cheeks and _shit,_ Jongin thinks, he'd do anything and everything to hold Joonmyun right now. It's been days since they've seen each other, since he's seen Joonmyun's warm smile and his pretty eyes. It hasn't been long since he's last heard Joonmyun's voice, or since Joonmyun last made him feel like exploding but– "And my knowledge on the second generation Pokemon is shit, so–"

Jongin gulps hard. He tightens his hold on Joonmyun. "So?"

"So I thought I'd review or something," Joonmyun answers. "Since you've been raving about it being your favorite and, you know, you look really… cute when you're excited? And talking about it excites you, and–" Joonmyun looks up at him. "Hey, Jongin, say something–"

Jongin bites the inside of his cheek. It's a two-pronged action: to keep himself from grinning so hard, and to not give himself away. But Joonmyun makes it so easy to let the unstoppable force tugging up at the corners of his cheeks have its way and make him grin so hard. Joonmyun makes it feel so right for Jongin to look stupid right here, right now, in front of the one person he's been wanting to impress since day one. In front of _everyone_ in this game shop that he frequents. And Joonmyun's giving a part of himself away so that Jongin can fit inside his tiny heart, weasel his way into it, find a comfortable space where he can spend the rest of his days in.

"Jongin," Joonmyun says again. He reaches out with his free hand to tug at the hem of Jongin shirt. "Okay, look, I know HeartGold is a better choice but I was going for _variety–_ "

"Shut up, hyung," Jongin says. Joonmyun leans back, cocking an eyebrow at him. Jongin shakes his head. "Just– Shut up, hyung."

He slips his hand from Joonmyun's and cups Joonmyun's face with his hands. Joonmyun stills, eyes going wide and lips pressing thinly together. He can feel Joonmyun's pulse on his skin, can hear the tiny gasp that escapes Joonmyun's lips when Jongin takes a step forward, and then another, and another. They're so close now, close enough that he can see Joonmyun's BB cream caking just under his eyes, or Joonmyun's eyelashes, sort but curved upwards. And then that tentative smile on his lips, the light quirk of his mouth, and the slow rise of his chest against Jongin's arms.

"Jongin, we're–"

Jongin leans closer, brushing his lips against Joonmyun's. "Hyung, please, shut up."

He presses his lips on Joonmyun's and immediately he feels his stomach turn, feels a sizzle of heat roll down his abdomen. He can feel the tremble of Joonmyun's lips against his, can hear Joonmyun's shallow breathing and for a moment he thinks, _shit, did I just screw things up? Did I ruin this one chance at making everything perfect? Did I–_ But Joonmyun silences all the voices at the back of Jongin's head when he tilts his head back a little, parts his lips just so. Frozen, Jongin sucks in breath through the tiny parting of his lips, and Joonmyun makes a move. He licks Jongin's bottom lip, teasing it open until Jongin relents. Joonmyun nips on his top lip and Jongin lets out a throaty moan. And Joonmyun swallows it all in the sloppy slide of their mouths, in this messy kiss.

There's a string of saliva hanging from their lips when they part. Joonmyun's looking up at him through his bangs and Joonmyun's mouth is kiss-swollen and Joonmyun's licking his lips, and Jongin's telling himself, _Focus, Jongin. Come on, you've got this–_ But to hell with focus – there's just one Joonmyun standing in front of him, making him feel a plethora of things. One breath and one touch keeping them apart. So he leans in for another round, and another, and another. And Joonmyun takes and gives and gives some more.

♬ ♬ ♬

They manage to make it to McDonald's without ripping each other's clothes off. A bathroom stall is hardly the most romantic place for a yes-we're-finally-more-than-just-a-thing fuck, but they'll take anything they can get. Joonmyun snakes his hands underneath Jongin's shirt and teases his nipples, rubbing slow circles around them. Jongin groans in response and tugs shirt off all the way, but makes sure to hang it in the hook at the door.

"It's my favorite shirt," Jongin reasons out when Joonmyun stops, looking up at him with his lips still clamped on his nipple. "What? It's been with me since I was–"

"I can get you more of those. I wasn't able to tell you but I actually manage my family's business on the side," Joonmyun whispers, then licks a stripe on his nipple. Jongin manages to choke down the gasp threatening to spill from his lips. "And I can get you more of other things. I have connections."

"Don't care," Jongin replies, feeling his throat again. He works on the button of Joonmyun's pants. "I don't need them. I need you."

Joonmyun shakes his head but bucks his hips at the first contact of Jongin's hand against his crotch. It fuels Jongin, feeds his hunger, so he slips two fingers in the band of Joonmyun's briefs, scores a line along Joonmyun's waist with the light brush of his nails. Joonmyun takes in a sharp breath, bites down on Jongin's nipple a bit too hard, and Jongin lets out a gasp. Joonmyun whispers something against Jongin's skin, sensitive and wet, and everything starts to blur – the confines of the space they're in, the press of their bodies, the way Joonmyun guides Jongin's hand further south until his briefs are hanging just above his knees. The time it takes for Jongin to strip down to skin and the friction of Joonmyun's skin against his cock when Joonmyun moves his spit-slick hand up and down Jongin's length.

"Fuck–" Jongin's words are cut off when Joonmyun cranes his neck, meeting Jongin's lips in a kiss.

Joonmyun is a fucking tease even in this cramped stall. He keeps a firm hand on the base of Jongin's cock, and slows down when Jongin starts whimpering in his ear. Jongin gets even, then, reaching for Joonmyun's cock and rubbing his thumb along the tip to spread the beading pre-cum. Their limbs are a tangled mess and Jongin's back _aches_ but the coiling sensation in his stomach is even more of a pain. Joonmyun's hand picks up pace and Jongin does his best to match him, runs his thumb along the vein of Joonmyun's cock and Joonmyun groans out loud at the same time that the door outside creaks open.

Jongin bites his lower lip. "Oh, you've _got_ to be kidding me."

"This is a test, kid," Joonmyun whispers. The tightens his hold on Jongin's cock and gives it a hard pump, and Jongin only widens his eyes at Joonmyun in response. He presses his mouth, hot and wet, on Jongin's ear and says, "The first to make a sound loses."

Jongin reaches around Joonmyun's waist and gives Joonmyun's butt a slap. Joonmyun fights back, loosening his fist, and Jongin tries his hardest not to buck into the touch.

But they only succeed at keeping each other on the edge, teasing each other all the more. Joonmyun muffles his whimpers against Jongin's skin and leaves open-mouthed kisses as his thighs tremble. Jongin licks the shell of Joonmyun's ear and Joonmyun starts thrusting into the tight circle of Jongin's fist. So Jongin gives it to him, jerks his hand in an opposite rhythm that makes Joonmyun move faster. Joonmyun's own hand is fast between Jongin's legs, as well. He can feel himself getting closer, the slapping of their skin against each other growing louder, and everything slows down when Joonmyun looks up him, sharp and focused, and he sees himself reflected in Joonmyun's hungry gaze.

He comes all over Joonmyun's knuckles like that's what does it for him, knowing that there's nothing that matters right now for Joonmyun but the fit of their bodies. Joonmyun reaches his climax not too longer after, spilling his release when Jongin gives his cock one slick twist. Joonmyun tilts his head back, trying to catch his breath, and Jongin would let him if the way his skin flushed under this light isn't so enticing. So Jongin gives in to the allure of Joonmyun's skin, sucking tiny red marks on the column of Joonmyun's neck. Joonmyun's eyes widen at the contact, at the brush of rough lips against soft skin and he throws his head back, thunking it against the door so hard that he groans and lets out a loud, "Fuck–"

Jongin chuckles. "You lose," he whispers. Joonmyun narrows his eyes at him. "You _lose,_ hyung–"

Joonmyun reaches up, snaking his hand to the back of Jongin's head to grab a fistful of Jongin's hair. The yanks him closer until their lips are only centimeters apart, saying, "You cheated." His voice is so soft, he could've been breathing, but Joonmyun's chest is heaving. His breathing is uneven and he's smiling that predatory grin of his, and he's crushing his lips into Jongin. It's like saying, _this is payback,_ except nobody stands to lose. The corners of their lips are both tugged up and the slide of their mouths is so coordinated that it almost seems as if they've been rehearsing this their entire lives. Two voices that have long been finding for a perfect fit, now harmonizing. Nevermind that they're sticky and the whole bathroom smells like sex and they're in public – Joonmyun kissing him like he's memorizing every inch of Jongin's mouth, like he's craving for more than just a taste and a soft touch. And he's kissing Joonmyun back.

He wouldn't mind losing this one time if Joonmyun loses control. It's a win-win situation. Jongin wouldn't have it any other way.

**「 お ま け 」**

Chanyeol signals at them from behind the camera, flashing two thumbs up. Jongin would think they're rolling already, but Baekhyun's sort of still fiddling with the lights and Kyungsoo's mumbling something along the lines of _you're screwing up the white balance again._ Joonmyun takes a deep breath and lets out a loud exhale, but the smile on his lips doesn't fade. It won't be a problem on a normal day, but in this particular case Joonmyun _has_ to wipe off the good guy look from his features.

"I dunno why I'm standing beside you," Jongin whispers. He moves closer, knuckles brushing against Joonmyun's own. He's still well inside the frame, anyway, and Chanyeol probably won't notice. Baekhyun and Kyungsoo trying to fix the white balance is proving to be a good distraction. "When you're wearing your _outfit–_ "

"It's part of who I am, Jongin. You _have_ to accept it," Joonmyun replies. He presses his lips thinly together. "I'll always be this way."

Jongin shifts in his position, turning to face Joonmyun so he can see him better. The get up isn't so bad, if he doesn't drag his gaze south to look at the baggy shorts, and Joonmyun's wearing this $uho outfit with so much confidence that Jongin can mistake Joonmyun for $uho and vice-versa. And maybe Joonmyun's right – $uho will always be a part of him the way that Kai will always be a ghost of Jongin's past. Their personas are like a second skin that's hard to slip out of, a comfortable sweater to wear in cold weather. Something to keep them warm in cold nights.

Luckily, their online personas are quite a match. And really, Jongin has been watching Joonmyun dress up like this for half a decade already; what's another hour?

"You're lucky you're cute," is all that Jongin says in reply. Joonmyun looks up at him, an eyebrow raised, and shakes his head in response.

Chanyeol makes a weird sound of protest a few feet away, and Jongin takes that as a sign to walk back to his 'x' mark. He still doesn't know how they'll make things work, shooting in Joonmyun and Chanyeol's room against a rolled down green screen, but that's part of the charm of doing new things, right? That's part of the entire I'm-dating-Kim-Joonmyun package. He's not even halfway through unraveling the whole thing but he knows, he's _positive_ that he'll enjoy it. He looks to his side and Joonmyun's smiling at him, one of those cheeky $uho smiles that says, _Hey, relax. You won't screw up. But if ever you do, I've got your back,_ and the wrapper comes off completely.

So maybe Joonmyun is the type of package that unravels itself and then wraps itself up on its own without warning. It's pretty weird, but Jongin thinks he has enough experience with weird things for that to be a problem. He can take anything life throws at him right now and if he ever ducks, Joonmyun will be there for the save.

"Together?" Joonmyun whispers from beside him. He doesn't even have to look at Joonmyun to know that Joonmyun's grinning.

Jongin takes a deep breath. Chanyeol will kill them if they keep at this. Their image is tough and cool, not silly and in love, but then this week's top track is a love song so maybe this will work. They can make it work.

Jongin nods. He meets Baekhyun's eyes, sees the small smile at the corners of his lips. It's comforting.

He takes a deep breath and says, "Together."

Baekhyun counts down to one. Beside him, Chanyeol says, "And, action!"

The red light blinks at them, and then Joonmyun's talking with that $uho kind of swag of his. It sounds more believable with only a few inches between them, with Jongin seeing his idol in action up close, and Jongin thinks that hey, maybe the outfit isn't so bad. Maybe the dollar sign in $uho's name isn't so bad, either. And maybe the concept of making his debut in a video with Joonmyun isn't the worst possible that they've ever come up with.

"This is your favorite, DJ $uho–"

Remembering this part, Jongin smiles, one corner of his mouth quirking up. "–and this is DJ Kai–"

"And we will be bringing you the hottest songs this week, straight out of the oven."

"You're tuned in to E-X-O, the hottest program online, in this planet, and beyond."


End file.
